Light of Mine
by Telentropy X
Summary: A Fledgling is almost killed during one of Michael and Lucifer's explosive arguments. Gabriel steps into the role of Caretaker for the little Angel and discovers that his new charge isn't what he expected.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hihi! So, I've been working on noooomerous things...at the same time...because my brain doesn't know how to work on just one thing. And I realized that I didn't really have a reason to not post all of these things. If I'm gonna write 'em, somebody can read 'em :)

This is my first Angelfic and I started it because I love Gabriel. There was not enough of him in the show, looking at YOU Supernatural writers! How dare you!

Don't own Supernatural. Wish I did because then, I could follow the cast around and not be a weirdo-stalker.

Enjoy and please review! Don't be shy :)

* * *

Thunder cracked across Heaven, causing the air to vibrate violently and the Angels to glance up nervously. Gabriel dropped to the road as his wings quivered in the flash of Grace that pulsed through the air and after a casting a concerned glance at his feathers, he scowled. His brothers' true voices clashed harshly, a painful contrast to the melodic chime they used to be.

"What are they fighting about now?" he demanded.

"What else do they fight about?" Raphael replied wearily, walking up beside him, flexing his wings. "Keep your distance today, Brother."

Gabriel's face was still set in a scowl as he watched his brother spread his six, gray wings and take flight. The color suited the grim Archangel, in his opinion. He hissed through his teeth, frustrated with his elder brothers. The day had started off so pleasantly. He'd pranked two of the Angels masterfully, planting Bariel's blade in Ariuk's robe and causing a hilarious brawl that ensnared several bystanders. Then, when the Seraphs came to separate the fight, Bariel's blade had mysteriously returned to his sheath.

Gabriel snickered at the memory, then thunder rolled again and his mirth evaporated. Barely a day passed anymore that Michael and Lucifer didn't get into an altercation regarding Father's newest creation, Humans. Gabriel was tired of it—all of Heaven was tired of it—but there was nothing he could do and he wondered how long it would be before his brothers came to blows…again.

Suddenly, all was quiet and after a moment of cautiously anticipating the next crash of thunder and Grace, he sighed with relief.

 _Good, now maybe they'll sulk for a while and leave us all in peace._

He unfurled his wings and took flight before he noticed the deadly charge in the air and realized his mistake. Suddenly, the air sang with the drawing of an Archangel's blade and Lucifer's Grace exploded across Heaven in a white-hot flash. Gabriel flared his Grace to shield himself from his brother's wrath but still felt the power of Lucifer's Grace pushing against his own. If Gabriel had been his focus, the damage would have been severe.

As it faded, Gabriel opened his Grace to check on his younger brethren. All across Heaven, the Angels' Graces were flared bright in alarm but they were whole. Then, he found one that wasn't. He whirled in the direction of the dim light and horror lanced through his being when he realized it was coming from the garden where the Fledglings were kept. The garden was heavily protected, the safest place the Fledglings could possibly be and the thought that Lucifer's temper could have cracked it chilled him.

He passed through the wards, felt them press against his Grace like the sharpest of blades, testing for a threat and then he landed, his presence rolling through the garden like a tidal wave. The Fledglings froze in their games, some on the ground, some in the air, looking at him apprehensively. The closest ones backed away from him nervously. He looked around and expanded his Grace, his amber eyes flashing with protective anger and worry when the Grace he was looking for seemed even dimmer.

A Seraph landed before him and bowed slightly. "What brings you to the garden, Gabriel?" she asked softly, folding her dusky wings back comfortably.

He darted to the right, ignoring her question and came upon a lone Fledgling, collapsed on the ground, curled in on himself, his little sides rising and falling with panting breaths.

His Grace was dangerously dim.

"Hey, there, kiddo," he said gently, kneeling beside the little Angel. He reached out, both with his hand and his Grace and the moment he touched him, the Fledgling curled up tighter and his Grace withdrew into a suffocating coil, dimming even further until it looked like a candle flame.

Gabriel immediately dampened his presence. The other Fledglings had nearly fled upon his entrance, he could only imagine that this one was equally terrified.

"I'm not going to hurt you, little brother," he promised, reaching out once more, but slowly. He put one hand on the Fledgling's back and the other on his chest, turning him over gently. The little Angel's head fell back limply but his face was pinched with pain and his hands were clutched tightly to his chest. Gabriel shifted his grip so that he was supporting the Fledgling's head and briskly rubbed his chest, trying to coax him back to awareness.

"It would be Eliyon."

He shot a glare over his shoulder at the Seraph. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

The other Fledglings skittered back as his Grace pulsed angrily but their Caretaker simply looked on with an expression that was sad, but resignedly so.

Gabriel's temper flared more. "You knew?"

"No," she said.

"How could you not?" he growled and she finally looked a little nervous. "Are you their Caretaker, or aren't you, Liel!?"

"I am," she answered, straightening under his accusation. "The garden is one of the best protected parts of Heaven. I had no reason to suspect anything was amiss."

"I felt his Grace failing from the other side!" he exclaimed. He had yet to speak loudly, but his voice rippled with his anger.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Gabriel," she said. "Eliyon's Grace has always been weak—the weakest I have ever seen."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed dangerously. "So, that makes it acceptable to just let him lie there and die?"

"I didn't say that," she protested.

"You didn't have to," he snarled at her. "You're lack of concern said it loudly enough."

He gathered the trembling Fledgling into his arms and stood, his wings half-spread in an aggressive posture. He strode past Liel without sparing her a glance.

"You would take him from the garden?" she asked in shock. "It isn't proper!"

He stopped and turned, spearing her with a menacing glare. "You would lecture _me_ on what is proper?"

"Gabriel, please, try to understand," she said gently.

"I understand," he told her. "What I'd like to know, is when did we begin the practice of culling?"

He left the garden without another word and flew to his aerie. He tried to keep his anger in check. While he'd been speaking with Liel, the Fledgling—Eliyon—had grown even more tense under the Archangel's furious Grace.

"You're going to be alright, kiddo," he promised. He strode inside and sealed the door closed behind him. No one was going to disturb him, not even Michael and Lucifer whose fight seemed to have ended after that last flare of Grace.

 _Maybe Michael beat some sense into him. I know I want to._

He walked to his bed and laid Eliyon on it, relieved to find that the Fledgling's Grace had relaxed out of its suffocating coil.

"Let's spark that Grace of yours, shall we?" he said but when he tried to connect with his own, Eliyon's withdrew again with a desperate, terrified speed. Gabriel withdrew and ran his fingers through the Fledgling's shock of dark hair. "Alright, alright," he soothed as Eliyon whimpered. "Here, let's try this."

He picked Eliyon up again and laid on the bed himself, stretched out his wings and laid the Fledgling down on them, where he promptly curled into himself again. Gabriel sighed, wanting so badly to connect with Eliyon's Grace and reassure the traumatized Fledgling but knew that he could very well kill Eliyon if he pushed too hard. He contented himself with watching Eliyon, waiting for him to relax as he absorbed some of the residual Grace from his wings. The Fledgling's dark, downy wings and hair contrasted greatly with his feathers, which started white and faded into a sunlit gold. Then, he frowned at his bottom-most feathers. The edges had been singed brown by Lucifer's flared temper.

"Oh, well," he muttered, shaking his head.

His bed was suspended and swayed gently in the wind currents that passed through on their way to Earth and after a while, he began to feel comfortably drowsy. He continued to rub Eliyon's back periodically, then relaxed onto his back with a sigh.

"You've got to give me something to work with, little brother," he murmured, blinking heavily.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth and felt his Grace relaxing, expanding throughout the room and with it, his mind wandered, sinking in on itself much like he was sinking into the softness of his bed. Suddenly, he felt something shift in his Grace, then he felt a tiny tug on the feathers of his second wing. Gabriel opened his eyes and turned his head to check the Fledgling, being careful not to move anything else. Slow moments passed and as he watched, Eliyon moved ever so slightly and he felt the Fledgling release his feathers, only to grasp them again more firmly. Gabriel flinched slightly at the sensation, prepared to pull himself free before he lost a handful of feathers to the Fledgling, then realized that it didn't feel unpleasant, at all. Eliyon shifted again, slowly uncurling himself and Gabriel frowned slightly as he rubbed his face in the Archangel's wing, getting past the contouring feathers and snuggling into the soft down underneath. Gabriel huffed a laugh at that and smiled to see Eliyon finally relax.

"There you go, little brother," he soothed and was relieved to see Eliyon's breathing slowing to a calm rhythm. "Get some rest. Tomorrow, I'll figure out what to do with you."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hihi! So, on to the aftermath! Yes, this update happened in record time. Please, don't expect it to happen often. I don't think I can live up to such lofty expectations.

Shoutout to 1Corinthians 1313! Glad you like it!

Enjoy!

* * *

Gabriel awoke to a sharp chime that he recognized as a startled cry. He sat up, instantly on alert and looked around.

Eliyon was gone and the only evidence of his presence was a tangled spot of golden feathers.

His first thought was that someone had taken him. Then, he recalled that the only Angels capable of opening his sealed aerie were Michael and Lucifer and they couldn't have cared less.

 _Yeah, we're still going to have words about that, Lucifer._

"Eliyon?" he called gently. "Where are you?"

He swung himself off the bed and stretched his wings until the joints popped. Walking around the bed, he refrained from opening his Grace just yet, in case the Fledgling was still in the room. He spotted him huddled in the farthest corner.

Eliyon gave a frightened gasp when Gabriel saw him and tried to scoot farther back against the wall, pressing his hand to his chest in an attempt to shield himself from the Archangel's overwhelming Grace. The Archangels rarely mingled with the lower Angels and never paid the smallest amount of attention to the Fledglings. Unless they had done something terribly wrong, like the day Balthazar had stolen a spell book from the library and tried to make Michael's wings turn blue.

 _I've done something wrong! I must have! But…I don't know what I did…_

Relief flooded Gabriel's features and he grinned. "There you are!" he chuckled and strode toward the Fledgling.

Eliyon's eyes widened in terror and he held his other hand up beseechingly. "No!" he begged hoarsely. "Please…I—I'm sorry!"

Gabriel froze, staring at him with a stricken expression.

"I don't know what I did," Eliyon whimpered, tears welling in his eyes. "But I'm sorry…Please—please, don't—" he begged desperately as Gabriel approached him, "—please don't punish me!" He curled his arm over his head and cringed away when Gabriel got close.

Gabriel knelt down in front of him and gently grasped his arm.

" _Please!_ Please, don't make it hurt," Eliyon choked, clutching his chest as his tears spilled over.

Gabriel cupped his cheek with one hand. "I'm not going to hurt you, little brother," he promised. He pulled Eliyon into a gentle embrace, wrapping his second wing pair around them both. As he'd hoped, after moment, Eliyon reached out to touch the feathers and he felt the Fledgling relax against him. Out of habit, he started to connect to Eliyon's Grace, then he recalled the way Eliyon had clutched his chest in pain and stopped. He pulled back from the Fledgling but kept his wings wrapped loosely around him and pressed his hand to Eliyon's chest.

"Wait!" Eliyon gasped in fright.

Gabriel met his panicked gaze and paused. Eliyon's eyes were, as of yet, the most unusual he had seen. They were silver, like liquid mercury and seemed to swirl as such, revealing every emotion and at the same time, concealing every thought.

 _That's…a little unsettling…_

"I'm not going to hurt you, Eliyon," he said again, pulling himself from his thoughts. "I just want to check your Grace."

Eliyon hesitated, then gave him a trembling nod. Gabriel pressed against his chest and Eliyon whimpered and caved against the force of the Archangel's Grace. Gabriel probed the Fledgling's Grace as though it was a wound, trying to be gentle but needing to be thorough. On the surface, it felt raw, battered, burned even and Gabriel fought to keep his anger at Lucifer from flaring so close to the tiny, vulnerable life he literally held in his hands. When he tried to probe deeper, Eliyon let out a pained moan and Gabriel withdrew quickly, guilt stabbing him when he saw the silent tears streaming down the Fledgling's face

"What happened to you, kiddo?" he asked, wiping Eliyon's tears away with his thumb. "You look like somebody's been using you for Battle Practice."

"I don't know," Eliyon said in a tiny voice.

"Have they?" Gabriel asked, appalled by the thought.

Eliyon shook his head and Gabriel sighed with relief.

"You know," he began softly, "this would be a lot easier if you'd open up to me."

Eliyon's silver eyes snapped up and stared at him with terror. "I—I can't…"

Gabriel gave a slow, long-suffering nod. "I know. Because I'm an Archangel you've been told you're not supposed to even talk to me, right?"

"There's something wrong with me," Eliyon said in a near whisper and Gabriel frowned. "Every time I try…it hurts…"

Gabriel cocked his head, frowning in confused concern. "Let me see."

Eliyon ducked his head and gave a tiny nod and Gabriel felt his Grace open ever so tentatively. Gabriel saw the injuries again and realized that many of them were old and healing, but not healing well, which worried him intensely. From the moment of their creation, a Fledgling could heal themselves. Then, he looked past the injuries to the core of Eliyon's Grace and froze with the panic building in his chest. An Angel's Grace was like a living flame, pulsing and bright, preceding them wherever they went, announcing them, binding them to each other. Eliyon's was barely an ember, sputtering and weak.

 _Eliyon's Grace has always been weak_ , Liel had said.

Gabriel frowned again as he recalled those words. Were the injuries the cause of Eliyon's sputtering Grace, or were they the result? Either way, the Fledgling wasn't going to last much longer.

"Eliyon," he said his name and the Fledgling dragged his head up to look at him. His eyes were haunted with exhaustion. "I'm going to take care of you," Gabriel told him. "But I can't do that if you cut yourself off from me."

Eliyon stared at him in stunned confusion. The Archangel wanted to connect to his Grace? Could he refuse? Did he even dare? Gabriel had treated him kindly, thus far, but he could feel the power rolling off of him, something that promised both protection and danger. He was frightened, had been ever since he had awakened on the Archangel's white and gold wings. He was also exhausted and in pain and desperately craving the contact of one of his brethren's Grace.

He opened his Grace and waited but Gabriel made no move to connect them. Then, trembling with anxiety, he slowly reached out to touch the Archangel's immense Grace and felt Gabriel withdraw everything but the barest edge of himself. The connection was immediate and overwhelming. The Archangel was fire and flood and ice and wind, violence and gentleness, and Eliyon's dim ember of Grace sparked, flickered and grew.

Gabriel winced slightly as every sensation suddenly became painfully heightened. After the briefest moment, it faded…no, it withdrew. With a sense of shock, he felt it curl back into Eliyon and in its wake, were memories. He saw each time the other Angels had tried to connect with Eliyon's Grace, the bright flame of their beings brushing up against his smoldering ember. He could differentiate between the injuries, the light attempts of the other Fledglings and the frustrated endeavors of the older Angels. He felt Eliyon's Grace respond eagerly to his own, starving for the connection, and the Fledgling sagged against him, pressing himself into the Archangel's Grace much as he had pressed himself into Gabriel's feathers the day before.

"Gabriel?" he queried weakly against the Archangel's shoulder.

Gabriel held him securely, rubbing his back. Eliyon's Grace was recovering slowly. He could have healed him instantly but he was hesitant to exert so much power when he wasn't sure how fragile the Fledgling actually was.

"I've got you, little brother," he said. Then, he had a thought. "You want to show me what happened in the garden yesterday?"

Eliyon didn't reply but suddenly, Gabriel saw the Fledgling in the garden, creeping away from the others. He saw Liel pay him absolutely no mind and his temper flared before he could stop it. However, Eliyon didn't quail from the surge this time. Instead he seemed to relax further, as though he was comforted by the Archangel's indignation.

 _Eliyon crept away from his siblings, dampening his Grace even more, so that no one could follow him. Even though he was disconnected from them all, he could feel them, the innocent joy of their play, and he longed to join them._

 _Suddenly, he looked up in alarm as the thunder of the Archangels' altercation pulsed around him, causing him to wince._

 _The other Fledglings paid no heed to the rumble, almost as though they could not hear it at all._

 _With each thunderous crack, Eliyon cringed and pressed a hand to his chest to try and soothe the flare of pain._

Standing in the memory-scape, Gabriel glanced from Eliyon to the other Fledglings, and even Liel. The young ones were completely oblivious to the violence pulsing through Heaven and their Caretaker only cast a resignedly curious glance upward as the air pulsed across the wards with exceptional force.

 _That was the moment I had to drop to the street_ , Gabriel realized, recalling the unpleasant tingle that had skated across his wings.

 _Eliyon stared upwards, his mercurial eyes wide with fearful anticipation._

Gabriel might have missed the dangerous charge in the air, but the Fledgling obviously hadn't.

 _Suddenly, a brilliant flash of blue-white Grace scythed across the sky and warped across the garden's wards. Eliyon's eyes went wide and he let out a strangled gasp of agony as the Archangel's wrath speared him through. He clutched his chest and collapsed to the ground, his little body trembling and his Grace flickering desperately._

If Eliyon had been outside the wards, Lucifer's Grace would have obliterated him. Instead, the protections had condemned the Fledgling to the slow death of a collapsing Grace. And no one had cared.

Gabriel scooped him up and stood, only then realizing that Eliyon had taken hold of his feathers again. He carried him to the bed and laid him down, petting his head.

"Eliyon, I must leave for a moment," he said as calmly as he could as anger pulsed through him dangerously. "I want you to stay here and rest."

"Wait," Eliyon begged, his voice a tiny chime of fear and he grasped desperately at Gabriel as he turned away. "Don't leave."

Gabriel immediately turned back and took Eliyon's trembling hand. A part of him was pleased that the Fledgling had overcome his fear of him enough to speak so frankly, another part of him grieved that he was still so afraid. He could feel the anxiety pouring from him, not just at the thought of being alone but also at the realization that he was speaking, unbidden, to an Archangel.

He wanted to throttle his brothers for making their younger siblings so afraid of them all.

"I won't be gone long," he promised.

"Please," Eliyon's eyes shimmered with tears. "I've never…I've always been… _please_?"

Gabriel felt the unfinished pleas. _I've never felt safe. I've always been alone_.

He started to sway the bed, gently rocking the Fledgling as he pressed his hand to his forehead, exerting just enough Grace to calm Eliyon's panicked mind and lull him to sleep.

"You're safe here, Eliyon," he said as the Fledgling's eyes drifted closed. Then, in a tremendous show of will, he forced his eyes open again and fixed Gabriel with a desperate look.

 _He thinks I'm putting him out just so I can leave._

Gabriel smiled, impressed despite the sad situation. "Don't fight me, kiddo," he said gently, stroking Eliyon's cheek. "I just want you to get some rest. If you wake up before I get back, if you get scared for any reason, just reach out to me, alright? I'll be here."

Eliyon looked at him in disbelief, then nodded, willing to trust him. His eyes grew heavier and he slowly drifted off to sleep in the gently swinging bed.

Gabriel placed a kiss on the Fledgling's tousled head and left his aerie. He needed to have a word with Lucifer.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hihi! So, I did a little Heaven building here, not much but a little. Everybody seems to agree on Gabriel's wings being golden and Michael's wings being white, but I've never found a...template, if you will, for Lucifer. His Grace was the brightest and he was the most beautiful, yes, buuuut...that didn't really help me. So, as I was writing this part, this image of him just popped into my head and refused to leave and I liked it :)

I've also realized that Gabriel's fondness of the word 'kiddo' is A) incredibly human, B) that word didn't exist at this point in time, C) he probably didn't pick it up until after he'd been on earth for awhile. I refused to change it because it almost seemed like his signature. You hear that word and you automatically know who's talking. Besides, maybe he's the one that introduced the word to humanity ;)

Anyhoo, enjoy and let me know what you think! Honestly, guys, I don't bite.

* * *

He took flight, heading for the Citadel that stood in the center of Heaven, where his father resided. He landed in the courtyard and his Grace rolled out from him like a wave, startling the Angels tending the trees and flowers. Once, they would have greeted him by name, now, they ducked their heads, both out of respect and fear. In the past, he had tried to convince them that he hadn't changed, tried to get them to treat him like their brother, but his efforts had failed. Some of the bolder ones might dare to engage him in a formal conversation, but they were few and none dared speak to him casually.

He paused outside and lifted his face, listening to the choir's ceaseless praising and the sense of love and adoration that washed over him was comforting. He opened his Grace to them, joining them briefly and felt their surprise at his presence. They never faltered in their song and welcomed him. He felt their joy and was surprised to find that it had grown with the realization that an Archangel had joined them. Once, Lucifer had led them but those days had passed and he had begun to fear they would never come again.

With a regretful sigh, Gabriel withdrew from the choir and strode into the Citadel. Lamps burning bright with holy oil lined the walls, bathing the alabaster walls in golden light. He approached the altar in the center of the room. Like the courtyard outside and the Garden that lay deeper in Heaven's center, this room was constantly tended, the lamps kept full of oil and the altar supplied with the sweet scent of incense that rose from the coals. He put his hand on the golden rim, finding it cool to the touch despite the heat it contained.

"Lucifer," he called, his voice uncharacteristically low and grim.

A moment later, a chill swept through the room, like a wind on Earth bearing snow.

"Odd to find you in the Mercy Room, Gabriel," Lucifer's deep, throaty chime filled the space effortlessly.

"Actually, it's quite appropriate," Gabriel remarked without turning around.

Lucifer sighed deeply. "We have discussed this, Gabriel."

"No we haven't," Gabriel replied. "Not this."

"You want the fighting to stop, little brother," Lucifer said. "I understand. I do too. But I will not lower myself and kneel in the mud before a creature that is beneath me."

"If Dad could touch that mud with his bare hands, why can't you?" the retort left Gabriel's mouth before he had a chance to consider his words. Lucifer's Grace flared in a warning and he winced. "This isn't why I wanted to talk to you."

Lucifer came to stand beside him and for the first time in a very long time, he was no longer a threatening presence, Michael's rival, he was an older brother.

"What troubles you?" he asked.

Gabriel couldn't look at him, couldn't bear to see the cold indifference in Lucifer's eyes. "You nearly killed a Fledgling today," he said quietly.

"Why was it outside the garden's protections?" Lucifer asked coolly, incredibly displeased with the idea that any of the Fledglings were not being minded properly…though, apparently not so much with the idea that he had harmed one of them.

"He wasn't," Gabriel replied. "If he had been, he would have been obliterated."

"I shall have the wards examined," Lucifer said, actually sounding concerned but still unapologetic.

"That isn't the problem, Lucifer!" Gabriel exclaimed. This was why he'd come to the Mercy Room. "Don't you understand? One of our siblings nearly died because of you and Michael!"

Lucifer scoffed. "You would do better to take this up with him."

"Michael doesn't care, Lucifer!" Gabriel told him, finally looking at his brother's impassive face. "He never did! Not really. But you…you do. Or at least, you used to."

Lucifer cast a sidelong glance at him, an older brother's silent warning to mind his words.

"Lucifer," Gabriel didn't bother to try and conceal the pleading note in his voice. "It was you! Not Michael. The wards are fine. But for some reason they didn't protect him. I don't know why. His Grace is…different…more sensitive. And he was dying when I found him, Lucifer! His Grace was collapsing!"

Lucifer's gaze snapped around to him and Gabriel was relieved to at least see that his brother hadn't forgotten what that meant, how terrible a death that would have been.

"Please," Gabriel begged. "I won't believe that you want us to be harmed. I won't believe that you don't care but…something—something has to…"

Lucifer glanced away, a troubled look on his face. "Surely, you understand, Gabriel, why I contend with Michael."

"Because you're both arrogant prigs?" Gabriel muttered.

Lucifer ignored him. "You are right. I do not want to see any of us harmed, especially the little ones," his deep, melodic voice was soothing. "But that is why Michael and I cannot agree—why I will not _bow_ before such low creatures! Why should we, who are crafted from the very essence of Heaven be subjugated to creatures born of dust?!"

Gabriel's wings drooped as he listened to his brother's argument, yet again. The same argument he made each time he fought with Michael.

"If we bow," Lucifer continued, lowering his voice once more, "what do you think will become of us? Do you not see that the creatures of Earth fear us? Do you know what that fear will become when it ceases to _be_ fear? I want to protect our family."

"This isn't what I wanted to talk about!" Gabriel insisted. "It's all well and good to want to keep us safe but what about today? Eliyon nearly died because of yours and Michael's fight! What's the point of protecting us if we're all going to die from you two fighting about protecting us!?"

Lucifer slanted his eyes at him.

"Don't look at me like that!" Gabriel retorted. "You know I'm right!"

Lucifer sighed. "You have a point," he said. "Walk with me, Gabriel." He led the way outside. He paused in the courtyard and flexed his wings, stretching them with a sigh of satisfaction. The feathers were such a dark blue that they were nearly black and his Grace, the brightest Grace in Heaven, seemed to glow even brighter by contrast.

"You are right," he told Gabriel. "Our family must be protected. Even from ourselves, at times. The others should not suffer from our quarrel."

Gabriel relaxed, his shoulders dropping with relief. "Thank you," he said with a faint smile, which Lucifer returned.

Suddenly, another immense presence filled the courtyard and Michael landed, his pure, white wings flared to slow his descent. When he looked up, his relaxed expression cooled and he lifted his chin to glare at Lucifer.

"Michael," Lucifer greeted him with a nod.

Michael turned his glare on Gabriel. "Did you really think the Mercy Room would improve your chances of reasoning with him?"

"Don't you have better things to do than watch me?" Gabriel said disparagingly.

"It wasn't you I was watching," Michael returned coolly, his emerald eyes flicking over to Lucifer.

Lucifer's only reply was a slight, uncaring lift of his chin.

"A Fledgling nearly died today," Gabriel informed him flatly.

Alarm flickered in Michael's eyes. "How?"

"Oh, when your little spat got out of control—" he included both brothers in his glare, "— _again_."

Michael looked thoughtful for a moment, recalling his earlier altercation with Lucifer and when such a thing might have occurred.

"Why was it outside the garden?" he asked.

"He wasn't!" Gabriel snapped. "And the wards are fine."

Michael shook his head. "That isn't possible," he stated. "For a Fledgling to be harmed inside the garden, the protections must be flawed somehow. They must be checked immediately."

Gabriel's amber eyes widened with fury at the implied order. "Why don't you handle that then?" he suggested acidly. "Since if they were damaged, it was because of you two!"

Lucifer dropped a hand onto his shoulder. "I will check the wards, Gabriel," he assured him. "It was my Grace that caused the damage and so, it should be my Grace that repairs it. I will ensure that they are strengthened, as well. The little ones should not have to suffer from our disagreement."

"There should be no disagreement," Michael hissed.

Lucifer's crystal eyes sparked with anger and the air around them suddenly tightened. "Michael," he warned.

"It is Father's will," Michael growled.

"Since when is it your job to make sure he does what he's told?!" Gabriel shouted in frustrated anger.

"I am Heaven's Commander," Michael's voice rumbled with his building wrath.

"And I am the Morningstar," Lucifer responded, his voice low with pride as the chill of his Grace washed over them both. Then, it receded and his expression relaxed. "I came to listen to a brother's concern, not to fight. Where is the little one, Gabriel?" he asked, dismissing Michael.

"In my aerie," Gabriel replied and Michael stiffened visibly.

"You removed him from the garden?" he demanded in a dangerously low voice.

Gabriel snapped around to glare at him, letting his own Grace flare slightly. "Yes! Because it wasn't safe for him there! And don't you _dare_ tell me that it isn't _'proper'_!"

"It _isn't_ proper," Michael retorted, then he softened. "But I can see why you would feel it was necessary."

"Well, I'm glad you can see _that_!" Gabriel bit out acidly.

Michael ignored the jab and strode past them into the Citadel. "Try and stay out of trouble," he called dryly.

"Now you're giving impossible orders to Gabriel?" Lucifer quipped sarcastically.

Michael shot a look over his shoulder. "I was talking to you," he told Lucifer, and for once he sounded like their brother instead of Heaven's Commander. "I have little confidence in Gabriel's abilities in that regard."

Gabriel watched him leave and scuffed his shoe against the flagstone walk. "I miss _these_ arguments," he said sadly.

"Perhaps, one day he will understand," Lucifer said.

"Yeah," Gabriel said dismally, turning to leave. "Because we both know you won't give an inch."

He took flight, heading for his aerie, worried that he had been gone for too long. Eliyon was still sleeping, curled over on his side away from the door. Gabriel sighed with relief and approached the bed.

"Hey, kiddo," he said, patting the Fledgling's tousled head. "I still don't know what to do with you."

His gaze fell to Eliyon's wings and he finally had a moment to study them. They were small and the dark, bronze color seemed swirled, as though it was liquid, almost as unusual as his eyes. He cocked his head curiously, seeing true feathers growing through the soft down.

Eliyon was older than he'd realized.

He scooped him up and laid down on the bed, placing the Fledgling on his wings once more. He opened his Grace and Eliyon's immediately grasped it and he felt a happy tremor shift through him from the Fledgling.

Suddenly, a thought struck him. _Is that it?_

Ever so gently, he examined Eliyon's Grace again. The glow was brighter, healthier, but still small and close and even connected to an Archangel's, it didn't flare into a flame. Instead, it simply shimmered more, like one of the hot coals in the altar when it caught a draft. Gabriel flared his Grace slightly, prodding it curiously and the little ember _did_ flare then, spearing into him viciously and he reared back.

"Agh!" he gasped, shaking his head painfully. "That…actually…kind of hurt," he muttered in shock. He looked at Eliyon only to find that he was still sleeping peacefully. The only change was that one little hand gripped his feathers and he had once again snuggled into the soft down.

Just like a coal in the altar, a gentle breeze would keep it alive and hot and anything more risked creating a retaliating flame, or snuffing it out completely.

"That's why they couldn't connect with your Grace," he said with slow realization. Then, he shook his head, at a loss. "Now, I _really_ don't know what to do with you!"


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hihi! More Gabriel! I couldn't leave him for long. Love me some protective/caring!Gabe! I think that's actually how he was, even though the show never just gives that info outright. Yes, still looking at you, Supernatural writers. You can't give us a character to love and not provide history/background. Telling us he ran away from Heaven was not sufficient! No argument you make will stand in the face of this grievous error. Unless your argument is that you were saving that info for when he comes back. That would be acceptable. Yes? Can I get a show of hands?

Shoutous to 1Corinthians 1313 and PrincessMagic! Thanks for reviewing! So glad you like it!

Enjoy!

* * *

Gabriel flapped one more time to soften his landing and then untwined Eliyon's arms from around his neck. The Fledgling kicked his feet wildly, laughing when the Archangel held him suspended for a moment, then, with a chuckle, Gabriel set him down. Eliyon's eyes were sparkling with excitement from the flight and he looked around, eagerly whipping his head back and forth to the point that Gabriel got dizzy watching him.

They were on one of the plateaus that served as the training ground for Fledglings learning to fly. Eliyon couldn't yet, but Gabriel wanted him to stretch his wings and with the Archangel's Grace spreading over the area, no one would dare come and disturb them.

"Alright, kiddo!" Gabriel announced happily. "Let's get to work!"

"What are we doing?" Eliyon asked.

"Well, first we're going to work with your Grace," Gabriel told him. "As much as I like the exclusive connection, it's not practical."

Eliyon's face fell. "But I can't."

"We're going to fix that," Gabriel assured him. "Your Grace is different—"

"Liel said it was weak," Eliyon murmured ashamedly.

"No," Gabriel said sternly. "It's not weak. Just different. Every other Angel's Grace is like an open flame, yours isn't but that doesn't make it weak."

 _'Cause I'm still smarting a little from last night._

"You have to learn to control it so that you don't take in everything all at once," he went on. "Kind of like I only used a little bit to connect with you the first time."

He swallowed his anger.

 _All he needed was a gentler approach. Why couldn't anybody manage that?_

Eliyon nodded but his face turned pensive and Gabriel realized he could still feel his anger.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked in a small voice.

"No," Gabriel reassured him quickly. "I'm just aggravated that no one else could figure this out."

"Oh."

"Now, I'll be right back," he said and took off with a rush of wind that made Eliyon's little wings flare. He flew over the plateau, dropping tiny gems as he went. He had borrowed the crystals from the choir because they had a resonance similar to an Angel's Grace but wouldn't hurt Eliyon when he felt them. Once he was done, he flew back.

Eliyon jumped back in surprise when Gabriel landed, looking quite pleased with himself.

"Alright, I dropped resonance crystals all over," Gabriel told him. "I want you to stretch out your Grace and find them."

Eliyon nodded and Gabriel felt him reach out past him. None of the crystals were far away but that was so Eliyon wouldn't have such a hard time retrieving them. After all, he couldn't fly yet.

"I found them!" Eliyon squealed excitedly.

Gabriel grinned. "Well, go get them!"

Eliyon took off at a run, wings held high and fluttering in the breeze. Gabriel laughed when Eliyon came to a small rise and jumped off, flapping his fluffy wings in an attempt to stay off the ground.

A familiar chill wafted across the Archangel's Grace.

"You're frequenting the oddest places these days, Gabriel."

He turned to see Lucifer striding toward him, tucking his wings behind him.

"Hey," Gabriel greeted him warmly. "Were you looking for me?"

Lucifer nodded. "I checked the wards around the Fledglings' garden," he said. "They were intact but I strengthened them anyway, just in case."

"Thanks," Gabriel said.

"Your Grace is spread all over the place, so I assumed you weren't looking for privacy," Lucifer commented.

"Well, I kind of was," Gabriel shrugged. "More of a deterrent, really. Not for me though."

Lucifer cast a curious look his way. "You have the little one here?"

Gabriel nodded, an enthusiastic bob of his head.

"When did you decide to school the Fledglings?" Lucifer asked.

"I'm not," Gabriel replied. "Just him. Nobody else cares. He was laying there _dying_ …and Liel didn't even move."

"Well, he's fortunate you found him," Lucifer told him. "Where is he?"

"He's catching rocks," Gabriel said with a grin. "Resonance stones," he elaborated when he saw Lucifer's dry look. "It's hard for him to connect to another Angel's Grace."

Lucifer's eyes narrowed. "And yet, he connected with yours?"

"I dampened it," Gabriel told him. "A lot." Then, he realized what Lucifer had said. "You can't sense him?"

Lucifer's Grace pulsed slightly. "Barely."

"Here he comes," Gabriel said and his wings ruffled with pleasure. Then, when Eliyon came over the rise, his feathers fell. The poor Fledgling was staring at Lucifer and Gabriel felt his Grace coil up defensively. "You couldn't sense him," he muttered to his brother, "but he obviously sensed you."

Lucifer took a step forward. "Eliyon."

Eliyon froze, trembling at the Morningstar's rumbling chime and he looked frantically at Gabriel.

"It's alright, kiddo," Gabriel assured him.

Eliyon looked back at Lucifer, missing Gabriel's grimace when he pressed a little hand protectively over his chest. Gabriel, beneath his smile, humor and patience, was powerful. Eliyon could feel his Grace stretching over the plateau to discourage any visitors and his six, large golden wings only served to complete the visage of authority. Lucifer's presence dwarfed Gabriel's in every sense. He had felt the arrival of the elder Archangel before he ever landed and his enormous, midnight blue wings weren't relaxed, but flexed in an intimidating display. The Morningstar was dangerous.

Lucifer dropped to one knee in the grass and held out his hand. "Come here, little one," he said gently. "I won't harm you."

Eliyon came forward, not because he wanted to, Gabriel saw, but because he felt he had no choice. He hung his head when he stood in front of Lucifer and cast a furtive glance at Gabriel.

"It's alright, Eliyon," he promised. "He's not here to punish you."

Lucifer shot Gabriel a surprised look.

Gabriel glowered at him. "Yeah, I have all of _you_ to thank for that," he said. "The first day, every time I'd look at him, he thought I was about to roast him."

Lucifer shook his head sadly. "I never wanted that," he said. "I never wanted my brothers to fear me. Look at me, Eliyon."

Eliyon raised his eyes to Lucifer's and he could see the terror consuming the Fledgling.

"I caused you harm the other day," Lucifer said. "That is something I never meant to do. Forgive me, little brother?"

Eliyon's eyes widened in shock and he nodded weakly. Then, his mouth fell open when he felt Lucifer extend his Grace in an invitation. Lucifer's Grace was immense and the thought of connecting to the Morningstar terrified him even more, but did he really have a choice?

"We _are_ family, little one," Lucifer said. "Even though some seem to have forgotten."

"Gabriel h-hasn't," Eliyon stammered and then froze when he realized he'd spoken out of turn.

Lucifer smiled and chuckled. "No," he agreed. "He is our loudest reminder."

"I heard that," Gabriel commented. "Somebody needs to be," he added under his breath.

Eliyon relaxed just the tiniest bit and reached out to Lucifer's Grace, gasping when his warmth contacted the Morningstar's chill. He tensed against the sensation, then a moment later, he realized that it wasn't unpleasant, in fact, it felt invigorating.

"Oooh," he breathed as his wings fluffed and fluttered and a light shudder ran through him.

Gabriel laughed. "Yeah, Lucifer burns a little colder than the rest of us."

Lucifer smiled, then his eyes narrowed as he studied Eliyon's wings. "He's missing feathers, Gabriel."

"I thought they hadn't grown in yet," Gabriel replied.

"No," Lucifer said and there was a rumble of anger in his voice. "They are missing. What happened, Eliyon?" he asked in a low voice.

Eliyon shuffled his feet and dropped his eyes. "They keep pulling out my feathers," he said quietly.

"WHAT!?" Gabriel exclaimed and his own Grace flared in anger. "You never told me that!"

Eliyon gave him a helpless look. "I can't fly anyway, it…doesn't matter."

Lucifer cupped his chin and turned him back to look him in the eye. "Of course it matters," he said, his voice rippling with vehemence. "Wings are precious things, little one. No one is allowed to touch them without your consent." He cast a practiced eye over the downy things and his expression became gentle. "May I?"

Eliyon stared at him, startled that the Morningstar would ask his permission, and nodded.

"Spread them for me," Lucifer instructed. He wasn't about to force the Fledgling to move his wings.

Eliyon did and Lucifer examined one, then the other. "They will heal," he said, then he frowned thoughtfully. "However…"

He turned Eliyon around suddenly and wrapped his hands around the little Angel's torso. He placed his thumbs between the bases of his wings and pressed them into Eliyon's back, causing his wings to stretch even farther. Eliyon squawked in surprise as something tingled over and through his wings and it seemed as though he could feel them better. He had never realized how numb they were.

"They were cramped from how long you've kept them close," Lucifer explained. "Now, they will heal properly." He pressed his hands into the soft down, lightly kneading the skin and muscle underneath, testing for further injuries and Eliyon squirmed with the sensation, unable to decide if he wanted to laugh or run away. "You should have new feathers soon."

"Does that feel better, kiddo?" Gabriel asked once Lucifer had finished his ministrations.

"Yes," Eliyon replied breathlessly. "Much. Thank you!" he looked at Lucifer with wide eyes.

Lucifer smiled and ruffled his hair.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Gabriel asked. "Test 'em out! Stretch 'em! It's the only way they'll get stronger."

Eliyon smiled and turned away, running and jumping as only a Fledgling could.

"He's a curious thing," Lucifer said.

"Hm?" Gabriel grunted, watching as Eliyon took a tumble that put grass in his hair.

"His Grace is…small," Lucifer said, almost to himself. "He might as well be human."

Gabriel snapped around to look up at him. "He's not human," he said sharply, suddenly not liking his brother's tone.

"No, of course not," Lucifer said in a placating tone. "But why would Father make an Angel with a Grace so…dim?"

"Well, I don't know!" Gabriel exclaimed in exasperation. "Why'd he make _yours_ so bright? He just _did_. I'll tell you though, at rest, his Grace may not be that bright, but it's strong. I was checking him yesterday to see how well he was healing and…apparently, I poked a little too much and he flared on me. Let me tell you—whoo!—it _still_ stings!"

"Hm," Lucifer grunted. "I am glad he's mending," he said and Gabriel heard an apology in his tone. "I imagine you'll keep him with you?"

"Might as well," Gabriel shrugged. "At least that way, I'll know that he'll alright. I'll socialize him, don't worry."

Lucifer's mouth twitched in amusement. Then, he unfurled his wings and took flight. Gabriel sighed and sat in the grass, glad that the day was passing so pleasantly. However, it seemed barely any time had passed before thunder rumbled through Heaven once more. Still, Gabriel was deeply relieved that, even though the air crackled with violence, his brothers never came to blows.

* * *

This kinda made me sad to write it, because Gabriel obviously loved Lucifer, which meant that Lucifer had been a loving brother. And all I could think about was the moment in Hammer of the Gods, the look on his face when Lucifer stabbed him. That just tears my heart up. I can't even see a gif of that without going NOOO!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hihi! So, I realized how long this chapter was getting and I while I love long chapters, this was two chapters worth of material, so you can expect the next one to show up really soon :) Have some familiar faces here, this time and some new things.

Thanks to everyone who has faved and followed. It makes me so excited to know that you guys are enjoying this fic. I'd love to know your thoughts.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Get back here, Eliyon!"

Eliyon laughed and landed, watching as Castiel picked himself up after becoming a tangle of limbs, wings and grass. The other Fledgling's ocean blue eyes locked on Eliyon, his wings tucked behind his back and he launched himself at his playmate. This time, Eliyon let himself get caught.

They collided and tumbled, laughing uproariously. Then, Castiel shoved him away.

"It isn't fair if you let me win," he said seriously.

Eliyon shoved him back and a grappling match ensued, brown and black wings thrashing wildly as each Fledgling tried to wrestle the other to the ground. Castiel had almost succeeded when Eliyon wrenched away, throwing them both into a roll that drove them against a pair of legs.

Eliyon's heart sank. _Oh no, not Liel or Zachariah…_

"Easy kiddos. Roughhousing is only fun if you survive it!"

They looked up with wide eyes to see Gabriel standing there with a huge grin on his face. A tremor of nervousness passed through Castiel but Eliyon grinned back.

"Don't look at me like that," Gabriel told Castiel. "I'm the last one that's going to punish you for something."

Castiel nodded. This wasn't his first encounter with Archangel but he hadn't spent as much time with him as Eliyon and so, still viewed him with a small level of apprehension.

"Ha HA!" Balthazar dove on top of them, causing them to shriek with surprised laughter.

Suddenly, Eliyon was on top of him, pinning him neatly.

Gabriel blinked, startled by the Fledgling's speed.

Balthazar spit some grass out of his mouth. "Agh…let me up, Eliyon!"

Eliyon grinned and let go. "Alright—OOMPH!"

Castiel plowed into him, knocking him back into the grass…then his hands were empty and Eliyon appeared behind him.

Gabriel's mouth fell open slightly.

Castiel was undeterred and he instantly threw himself toward Eliyon once more, latching onto his arm with fierce determination. Balthazar dove in again, tackling Eliyon's legs before thinking the action through. Eliyon and Castiel fell on top of him and the air was crushed out of him with a loud OOF! The three of them lay on the ground, laughing and exhausted.

"Get off me, Castiel," Balthazar groaned. "Eliyon, you're on my wing."

Castiel was sprawled across both of them and instead of just rolling off of Eliyon, he bounced across Balthazar, causing the other Fledgling to grunt painfully. Eliyon rolled to his feet so Balthazar could get up and the three of them took some time to dust the grass from their heads and straighten out their feathers.

"Come here, kiddos," Gabriel called. "I'll handle that."

"Gabriel, it is essential that they learn to care for their wings themselves."

He looked up to see Esme, another Caretaker, watching with a disapproving frown. Castiel and Balthazar were her wards, like Eliyon was supposed to be Liel's. However, unlike Liel, she didn't really seem to know when to hold her tongue.

"I'm aware," he said coolly. "I was just going to make sure they weren't injured."

 _"Since you don't seem inclined to do so,"_ he added, communicating through their connected Grace.

Her head snapped up and she had the good sense to be a little alarmed at his disapproval.

The Fledglings walked over to him, still giving each other light shoves that caused Esme to purse her lips into a thin line of disapproval at their lack of decorum in the presence of the Archangel.

Gabriel checked Castiel, then Balthazar, straightening their black and sand-colored feathers, respectively, and checking for bends and breaks.

"Everything looks good," he told them.

"Come along, little ones," Esme called and the Fledglings gave Gabriel grateful smiles before following their Caretaker.

"Your turn, kiddo," Gabriel said and sat down in the grass.

Eliyon spread one wing, then the other, letting him check them over as he'd done each day after he'd learned that some of the other Fledglings had been pulling out his feathers. Most of the down had been replaced with sleeker feathers by now and the deep, bronze color glistened in the light. He ran a finger along the edge of Eliyon's flight feathers and Eliyon squirmed at the ticklish sensation.

"You're good to go," Gabriel announced, standing up again.

"Why do they look like that?" Eliyon asked, peering at his feathers.

"What do you mean?" Gabriel asked.

"They aren't smooth."

Gabriel cocked his head, wondering about that himself. The edges of Eliyon's wings weren't a straight line like every other Angel's wings. They were serrated.

"Dunno," Gabriel confessed lightly.

"Are they supposed to be like that?" Eliyon sounded worried.

"Suppose so," Gabriel told him, clapping him on the shoulder.

Along with his healed wings, Eliyon's Grace had recovered, as well and he was able to connect with his brothers and sisters without difficulty.

"You've got some nice speed, by the way," Gabriel told him.

Eliyon ducked his head in embarrassment and Gabriel chuckled.

"Come on, I want to show you something."

Eliyon's face lit up eagerly and he followed Gabriel out of the garden. At first, he thought they were heading to the Archangel's aerie, then, they turned down a road that became smooth, gray stone instead of the golden pavement that spread throughout Heaven.

"Hang on to me," Gabriel instructed. "This is a little far for you."

Eliyon took hold of Gabriel's arm and the Archangel stepped off into nothingness. Heaven seemed to soar away from them and Eliyon gasped, but was unable to scream. The wind buffeted him violently and he instinctively tucked his wings against his back. Gabriel looked down and gave him an approving nod and grin and suddenly, everything changed. He could see trees and mountains, he could hear wind and birds, but the voices of his brothers and sisters became both distant and sharper.

Then, they were standing on solid ground.

"Is this Earth?" Eliyon asked, looking around quickly, just as he had when Gabriel dropped him on the plateau.

"Yep, sure is," Gabriel replied. "Right now, we're in the astral plane, kinda between the two places. We can't really step through to the physical plane unless we have a vessel."

"A…vessel?" Eliyon asked.

"A human willing to carry us around in their body," Gabriel explained. "They have to give us permission," he said to Eliyon's appalled expression. "It isn't like we just snatch them up."

Eliyon nodded, a disturbed look on his face. Then, it vanished, replaced by a look of wonder as he gazed around, taking in everything. In the distance, he could see a mountain spewing molten rock and behind him was a body of water that spread all the way to the horizon and washed away the shore at the same time.

"That's the ocean," Gabriel explained.

"May we see it?" Eliyon asked.

Gabriel laughed. "Yeah! That's why I brought you down here. To see things."

They walked to the beach and when Eliyon stood on the sand, he stopped, frowning down at it and picking his feet up gingerly.

"Gabriel," he called.

Gabriel turned around, concern knitting his brow at the uncertain tremor in Eliyon's voice.

"It's sticking to me," Eliyon told him.

Gabriel grinned. "It's supposed to," he said. "See?" He held up his own foot.

Eliyon peered at the sand covering the bottom of Gabriel's foot and his face cleared. "Oh," he said.

Gabriel smiled fondly as the Fledgling dug his feet farther into the sand so that it stuck to the tops of his feet, as well.

 _After so long of hearing that something was wrong with him, he thought this was more of the same._

"Gabriel! Look!" Eliyon held something up in his hand, his face alight with excitement.

"Whatcha got, kiddo?" Gabriel asked, walking back to him.

"I don't know," Eliyon replied. "But it's pretty."

Gabriel looked down at the little pink shell he held in his hand. "Might want to put that down, kiddo."

"Why?" Eliyon asked.

Spindly little legs eased out of the shell and Eliyon's eyes went wide.

"What are you?" he breathed in astonishment, watching the tiny creature's eyes flick around at the environment.

"That's a type of crab," Gabriel told him. "He lives in that shell. Put him down so he can go home."

Eliyon nodded and set the shell down on the sand. The crab scurried away.

"Come this way," Gabriel said and led the way closer to the water.

Eliyon followed with wide eyes, trying to absorb the sheer size of the body of water before him. "What is it, Gabriel?"

"It's called the ocean,' Gabriel called over his shoulder as he started down the hill toward it. "Come on!" he said excitedly.

Eliyon hesitated, hearing a continuous wet roar and a sound like a million tiny things falling and breaking and shifting. When he came to the top of the hill, he froze at the sight of the wild waves standing up and crashing over. That was the source of the noise. He quickened his pace to catch up to Gabriel and suddenly, the ocean was coming closer. His eyes went wide with fear and he danced backward with a startled yelp, his wings fluttering as he tried to escape.

Gabriel spun around in alarm, then cocked his head at the sight of the Fledgling standing just beyond the waterline. He looked incredibly small and vulnerable, his silver eyes nearly as big as saucers and his wings were flared.

Eliyon gave him a pleading look. "It tried to get me," he said in a small voice.

Gabriel laughed and shook his head. "Come here, Eliyon."

Eliyon shook his head slowly and emphatically. Suddenly, Gabriel was there and he felt the Archangel's hands on his arms. Then, just as suddenly, he was in the middle of the noisy surf. He yelped in fear and jumped, flapping his wings desperately but unable to fly because of Gabriel's grip.

"Eliyon, calm down!" Gabriel told him as he was buffeted by the Fledgling's panicked flapping. The wings stilled but he still felt Eliyon's weight and saw the Fledgling was holding his feet up, his knees pressed to his chest.

"I don't want it to get me!" Eliyon cried and he sounded close to tears.

"It's not going to get you," Gabriel told him reasonably. "It's not alive."

"It's moving and making noise—"

"That's because it's so big," Gabriel explained. "These waves are like huge ripples. The beach goes all the way out into the water, and it's constantly getting deeper. So, when ripples start coming into the shallows, they get taller and taller until they fall over. See? Watch."

Eliyon watched apprehensively and yes, he had to admit that everything seemed to happen just like Gabriel described.

"Look down," Gabriel told him and Eliyon's dark head tilted to see the surf swirling around Gabriel's ankles. "It's not hurting _me_."

"You're an Archangel," Eliyon pointed out with a frown.

Gabriel burst out laughing at that. "Eliyon," he began once he could speak again, "would I put you in danger?"

The question took Eliyon aback and his wings drooped a little. "No," he said sheepishly.

"No," Gabriel confirmed. "Put your feet down."

Eliyon slowly unfolded himself, refusing to curl up again when the water hit his feet. Gabriel released his arms and Eliyon stood very still as the surf swirled around them both.

"Well?' Gabriel asked.

"It's cold," Eliyon remarked.

Gabriel grinned and walked farther out until he was at the point where the waves were the tallest. One came surging up the beach, towering over the Archangel and crashing down on top of him. Eliyon chimed in terror as Gabriel disappeared under the water.

 _The ocean ate him!_

A chill washed over him and an instant later, he felt a strong hand on his shoulder.

"He's alright, little one," Lucifer promised him.

Gabriel came up a second later with a whoop, flapping his wings and slinging water in every direction.

"There," Lucifer said confidently. "You see?"

Eliyon nodded and his panic slowly subsided.

Gabriel turned around and his eyes widened with surprise at the sight of his brother. "What brings you down here?" he asked, coming up the beach.

Lucifer patted Eliyon's shoulder. "You frightened him, Gabriel," he said, his tone mildly scolding.

Gabriel's mouth fell open. "That badly?!" he asked Eliyon.

Eliyon dropped his eyes.

"Ah, kiddo, I'm sorry," he said. "The water feels good. You want to give it a try?"

Eliyon peeked up at him and Gabriel could see the cautious curiosity in his eyes.

"Not here," Gabriel told him. "I'll take you someplace else where the waves aren't so big. Yeah?"

Eliyon nodded.

"Sorry about that, Lucifer," Gabriel said.

"No apology needed," the Morningstar replied easily. "I didn't mind coming down to check."

Gabriel grinned and flapped more water from his wings. Eliyon shrieked with startled laughter and Lucifer reared away from him.

"Gabriel!" he snapped. "For the love of Father!"

"Heh, there's some for you too," Gabriel laughed. His laughter turned into a gasp when Lucifer heaved him out into the ocean past the waves with a mighty splash. He came up sputtering and with a few flaps, landed back on the beach. "What was that?" he demanded, drying himself off.

"You are not Heaven's first prankster," Lucifer smirked. "Don't forget, little brother, I taught you your tricks. Don't. Even. Try it."

With a sheepish grin, Gabriel dissipated the orb of seawater that had been hovering over Lucifer's head.

"When you have finished your play, I trust you'll come home," Lucifer said dryly.

"Of course," Gabriel replied with a dismissive wave and Lucifer left. "Come on, Eliyon. Let's find some Fledgling sized waves."

They found a small cove where the sea was calm and Eliyon could play. He splashed through the water, soaking his wings and flinging drops everywhere. He studied the brightly colored fish and corals and looked for more shells with crabs in them.

"You want to go somewhere different?" Gabriel asked after about an hour.

"There's more?" Eliyon asked in wonder.

Gabriel grinned. "Come on." He took Eliyon's hand and soon, they were standing in a forest.

"Oh, I like this place," Eliyon said, turning in a circle. "There are so many smells. What are those?"

Gabriel looked where Eliyon was pointing and saw several gray shapes moving through the underbrush. "Those are called wolves. There's the pack leader—"

"I like the little ones," Eliyon said.

"The pups? Yeah, I guess that makes sense," Gabriel grinned. "They're small like you."

Eliyon wandered closer to them and the wolves looked up at him. "They can see me," he said in wonder.

"They can, but humans can't," Gabriel said. "I'm not sure why that is."

He only looked away for a moment and suddenly, he felt something shift in the air around him. Eliyon had stepped through to the physical plane.

"Eliyon!" he called in alarm. The Fledgling didn't have a vessel, didn't know the first thing about getting one or how to move between the planes. "ELIYON!"

He could still feel him nearby but he couldn't see him. The wolves were still there and Gabriel let his gaze sweep over them, studying the woods around him. Then, a movement among wolves caught his attention again and he studied the pack. Where there had been five pups before, now there were six.

Gabriel huffed in frustration, his Grace coiled with worry and he was on the verge of calling Lucifer down himself. "Eliyon? Where are you?" he called again and the air pulsed slightly as he pushed his Grace into his words, almost turning them into a command.

The ferns on his right rustled suddenly and his missing Fledgling appeared, standing in the middle of the wolf pack. The Archangel stared, speechless. Eliyon had no vessel, but his form was solid, physical. He turned and saw Gabriel and his happy expression faltered.

"What is it, Gabriel?" he asked worriedly.

"What are you doing?" Gabriel asked in shock. He hesitated to tell the Fledgling what he had done. If Eliyon was unaware that he had crossed into the physical plane and he panicked, he might not be able to cross back over.

"I wanted to see the pups," Eliyon said simply.

"Alright, well, can you come back to me, now?" Gabriel requested, trying to keep his voice steady.

Eliyon nodded and Gabriel held his breath. The Fledgling crossed back over with terrifying ease and he sighed with relief.

"What's wrong?" Eliyon asked.

"Eliyon, do you know where you were? Do you know what you did?" Gabriel asked. "You crossed into the physical plane." He looked back at the wolves, seeing the mother gather up five pups.

 _That sixth pup must wander like my Fledgling does._

Eliyon gaped at him. "I didn't mean to," he said quietly. When he had approached the wolf pups, the environment had suddenly shifted and he felt…different. "But, there aren't any human's around to carry me," he added in confusion.

"I know," Gabriel told him. "That's why I was worried. Let's head back, alright? I think we've had enough fun for one day."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Tada! Like I said, had two chapters in one! Updates never happen this quickly, otherwise. Actually, they've never happened this quickly before _ever_.

Who watched the eclipse yesterday? That was the weirdest thing I've ever seen! Super eerie!

Enjoy!

* * *

"I didn't call Lucifer when we were at the ocean," Eliyon told Gabriel once they were back in the Archangel's aerie.

Gabriel looked up from preening his feathers and saw the Fledgling's downcast eyes. "It would have been alright if you did," he replied, realizing that Eliyon was worried he'd be reprimanded for bothering the Morningstar. "Lucifer meant it when he said he didn't mind checking on us, even though he knew there wasn't any danger."

"Then…why did he come?" Eliyon asked.

"Because he's connected to your Grace, and he felt how scared you were," Gabriel explained. "I'm sorry about that," he added softly.

Eliyon shrugged his forgiveness and Gabriel smiled. Then, his expression turned serious. "Eliyon, about today…"

"I didn't mean to leave," Eliyon said quietly. "I don't know how I did it. I just wanted to see them."

Gabriel felt his mind twist as he recalled the moment that five pups became six, only to become five again.

"Am I in trouble?" Eliyon asked resignedly.

"No," Gabriel quickly reassured him. "You just…you did something today that no one ever has before. That's all. Maybe it's because you're a Fledgling. I dunno. Maybe you don't need a vessel."

"But you said we had to have a vessel in the physical plane," Eliyon reminded him.

"We do," Gabriel replied. "Because of our Grace. That's what makes us dangerous to humans if we don't conceal it within a vessel. Yours is different. It's…" he gave a helpless chuckle, "unique."

Eliyon's mouth quirked into a small smile.

"Come with me," Gabriel said as a thought struck him. "There's something I want to show you."

He took Eliyon to the Citadel and when they landed in the courtyard, the Fledgling gazed up at the choirs. His bronze wings seemed to rise of their own accord and his feathers fluffed happily as he closed his eyes, a rapturous expression on his face. Gabriel smiled as he saw Eliyon's Grace glowing brighter until, suddenly, it crackled against his own.

"Lucifer used to lead them," he said quietly, almost to himself.

Eliyon looked at him, his silver eyes shining like stars. "Really?" He gazed up in wonder, imagining how glorious that must have sounded.

"Then, the fighting started," Gabriel added sadly.

"Will he ever sing with them again?" Eliyon asked.

"Maybe," Gabriel replied, trying to not sound as hopeless as he felt.

"I hope so," Eliyon said and followed Gabriel up the steps.

"This is the Mercy Room," Gabriel told him, showing the massive chamber with a sweep of his arm. "We bring our petitions here, both for Father and for each other. This is what I wanted to show you." He strode to the altar and lifted Eliyon so he could see over the golden rim.

Eliyon's wings fluttered, reflexively trying to escape the intense heat coming up from the glowing coals.

"Our Grace burns like the lamps of holy fire," Gabriel told him. "An open flame, hot, dangerous, especially when it combines with others. Yours is like one of these coals, burning just as hot, but the fire is…contained. That's why it was so difficult for you to connect with the rest of us. Our fire was just skimming across your coal."

"Oh," Eliyon said slowly. Then, he reached out a tentative hand and held it above the coals, watching the air twist in the heat as he contemplated this thing that was just like him. Every cruel word, both unintentional and intentional, came back to him, from Liel telling him that his Grace was weak, to Zachariah, who wasn't even a Fledgling anymore, plucking the feathers out his wings and telling him that he would never be able to fly. As he felt the heat washing over his hand, it suddenly struck him that Father had chosen those glowing embers to fill his altar…instead of fire. So, maybe, just maybe, Father had a purpose for making him a coal instead of an open flame.

"Is there a Judgment Room, too?" Eliyon asked suddenly.

"You're standing in it," Gabriel replied, his content mood evaporating.

"But, you said it was called the Mercy Room," Eliyon insisted in confusion.

Gabriel nodded. "Sometimes one takes the place of the other," he said grimly.

He remembered the day they went to war against the Darkness, the first time he had felt the power of his father's wrath. Heaven had darkened and even the light of the lamps was swallowed. Then, the altar had suddenly erupted into a roaring pillar of flame that nearly touched the ceiling and the four Archangels had staggered back from the heat. He remembered Lucifer stepping in front of him to shield him from the inferno while Michael moved to protect Raphael.

"When it is time for mercy, the coals lie here, at rest," Gabriel went on. "When it is time for judgment, the coals become a devouring flame."

Eliyon's expression became grave. He could feel the power of Father's judgment sleeping beneath the smoldering coals.

"Your feathers are a mess!" Gabriel exclaimed suddenly with a laugh. "Come on."

He led Eliyon back outside but before they left the room, Eliyon glanced back at the altar.

 _Father made me a coal._

His feathers fluffed happily again once they were outside and he could hear the choir singing.

"BALTHAZAR!"

Michael's wrathful shout shattered the tranquility.

Gabriel turned toward the sound and saw the sandy-winged Fledgling dive out of one of the library windows. The golden-haired Archangel pulsed his Grace, drawing the young Angel to him before Michael could emerge, as well.

"It was an accident!" Balthazar cried as he landed at Gabriel's feet. "I promise it was!"

Gabriel cocked his head, studying the Fledgling and trying not to laugh.

"What happened to your wings?" Eliyon asked.

Balthazar frowned at the rosy blush that covered the ends of his feathers. "Today, Esme showed us a red bird that lives on Earth. I was trying to bring it here," he explained sourly.

"You tried to summon a bird?" Gabriel asked, unable to hide his grin.

"I did everything right!" Balthazar exclaimed in frustration. "I don't know what went wrong."

Gabriel thought for a moment, recalling everything necessary to perform a successful summoning. First, you had to identify what you wanted, which required things that would serve as a description, representatively.

"What did you use for the color?" he asked at last.

"A rose," Balthazar replied. "The book said a flower would work."

"Was it fresh?" Gabriel asked.

"Ye-es?" Balthazar answered uncertainly.

Gabriel shook his head. "Needs to be dried."

Balthazar's shoulders sagged and his wings drooped to the ground. "Oh."

"Balthazar!" Michael's angry voice cracked like thunder. He landed in the courtyard, the wind from his wings churning the air like a storm and his emerald eyes flashed with fury as his gaze lit upon the Fledgling.

Balthazar squeaked in fear. "I didn't mean to!"

Gabriel swept both Fledglings behind him with a wing.

"Gabriel, you will not defend him from me," Michael snarled, flaring his wings threateningly.

Gabriel erupted into laughter at the sight of the red stains that covered the longest feathers on Michael's pure white wings.

"This is NOT funny!" Michael growled.

"Yes it is!" Gabriel howled. Still, he was aware of just how angry Michael was and he kept his wings spread protectively.

"This foolishness will stop, right now!" Michael snapped, glaring through Gabriel's wing to where he knew Balthazar was standing; he could see the Fledgling's feet.

"You said that to Lucifer, once," Gabriel reminded him. "Then, you said it to me."

Michael flared even more, his eyes glowing with his anger.

"He's just a Fledgling, Michael," Gabriel reasoned, trying not to laugh anymore. "He was trying to perform a summoning and he used fresh ingredients by mistake. I know he has a reputation for mischief—"

"He has been told to stay out of the library for just this reason," Michael growled.

Gabriel realized that nothing he could say would save Balthazar from Michael's retribution. He pushed a tendril of Grace into Eliyon.

Eliyon grabbed Balthazar's hand and vanished with him.

"Michael," Gabriel began, "is it really such a horrible thing? He didn't damage your wings. They don't even look bad!"

"That is NOT the point!" Michael snapped. He grabbed Gabriel's shoulder and moved him to one side. "Where is he?"

"Dunno," Gabriel said, pursing his lips. He didn't have to feign ignorance this time. He hadn't even felt Eliyon leave. He produced a crystal vial with a flourishing gesture and held it out to his brother. "This should get the stains out."

Michael glared at him, looking for any sign of mischief, then he took the vial. "Thank you," he said gruffly.

"He's just a Fledgling, Michael," Gabriel said again.

Michael glowered but didn't say anything for a moment. "What was he trying to summon?"

Gabriel smirked. "A bird."

Michael's anger vanished and he stared at Gabriel, dumbfounded. "Why, in Father's name, would he want to summon a _bird_?"

Gabriel shrugged. "I guess he liked the one Esme showed them."

"What kind of bird?" Michael asked.

"A red one," Gabriel replied.

Michael rolled his eyes and turned to leave. A chill washed over them both and Lucifer landed.

"Brother," he greeted Michael, his mouth twitching with the effort of suppressing his amusement as his eyes took in the stains on Michael's wings. "I see Balthazar found his way into the library again."

"Hm," Michael grunted indignantly and took flight.

"I imagine he ran to you," Lucifer said to Gabriel, watching his older brother fly away.

Gabriel shrugged.

"I have work to attend to," Lucifer said. "I only stopped because I saw Michael's wings and I just had to know what had happened. Moments like this make me glad he's such an authoritarian, it wouldn't be nearly as amusing if he wasn't."

"Balthazar didn't think it was funny at all," Gabriel said with a chuckle. "Now, I have go and find them."

"Follow the chaos and I'm sure you'll find him quickly enough," Lucifer laughed and flew off.

Gabriel found Balthazar in the garden with Castiel and the other Fledglings. Esme had never known he was gone and Gabriel wasn't sure if that was a testament to Balthazar's deviousness or Esme's lack of attention. He traced Eliyon back to his aerie and found the Fledgling sitting in the floor, massaging one of his wings.

"What happened?" Gabriel asked.

"I don't know," Eliyon said with a wince. "It started burning when I took Balthazar."

"Let me see," Gabriel said and sat next to him.

Eliyon stretched his right wing out to him and the Archangel ran his hands along the bones. He frowned when he felt heat in the joint and tested the bones for a break. Eliyon grimaced as his injury pulsed with pain in Gabriel's strong grip.

"Did you carry him?" Gabriel asked suddenly, turning Eliyon side-on to him so he could reach the injury better. The bones were intact but he could feel the small fractures from the overexertion.

Eliyon nodded. "He can't fly as fast as I can," he explained.

"Your wings aren't strong enough to be carrying anyone but yourself," Gabriel said. "They'll be fine, but it might be a little while before you can fly long distances."

He massaged Eliyon's wing, infusing his Grace into the muscles and bones to heal the injury. The Fledgling sighed as relief coursed through him.

"Does that mean we can't go back to Earth?" Eliyon asked, disheartened.

"For a little while, it does," Gabriel replied.

"When we do go back," Eliyon stifled a yawn, "can we find some dried roses for Balthazar so he can summon the bird?"

Gabriel grinned. "Maybe so," he said as Eliyon slumped against him tiredly. "Get some rest, kiddo. Your wing will heal faster."

Eliyon didn't reply, but Gabriel felt his Grace sink down into a dull glow. He chuckled and started straightening Eliyon's feathers, carefully infusing more Grace to speed the healing. The bronze wings smelled like the ocean, sand, the woods and the wind and he remembered the moment he'd lost Eliyon and realized he'd crossed to the physical plane. The alarm that jolted him at the memory faded as he felt Eliyon's resting Grace touch his. He shifted and wrapped his wings around them both, only this time, it was for his comfort. He sighed with relief when Eliyon grasped his feathers in his sleep, providing Gabriel undeniable proof that he hadn't lost his Fledgling.

"Next time we go to Earth," he muttered tiredly, "I'll definitely keep a closer eye on you."


	7. Chapter 7

A/n: Hihi! So, Gabriel wouldn't leave me alone. He obviously didn't care that I have homework and life for us mere mortals is not all fun and games. But, maybe now I can be a little responsible before I start the next chapter. Ye-eahh, probably not. Who am I kidding?

Shoutouts to 1Corinthians 1313, PrincessMagic, WingsofJustice and CrystalVixen93! Thank you guys so much for reviewing! It just makes my day to know you're enjoying the story!

Enjoy!

* * *

Heaven was quiet, peaceful for the first time in long time. For a while, the Angels had held their collective breath, waiting for the next explosive argument between Michael and Lucifer. However, it had yet to happen and slowly, everyone found themselves relaxing as it seemed that their home had returned to being the paradise it had been. Even Earth seemed to benefit from the uncertain peace that had settled between the Archangels.

Gadreel stood at the entrance to Eden, a garden of Heavenly perfection that God had created just for the humans. Though he hadn't been home in some time, he had felt each fearful and painful tremor his brothers and sisters suffered during those moments. Now, the silence filled him with relief and he prayed the peace would last.

He extended his Grace until he touched the souls within the Garden. He found the Humans…odd. Their souls had a peculiar resonance, similar to an Angel's Grace but far more profound. At first, he had tried to connect with them like he could with his brethren, only to find that they weren't receptive to him. He could communicate with them, he knew, but these beings weren't meant to join with an Angel's Grace. However, he could feel them joined to each other. He could feel them joined to Father. Although he couldn't access that connection, he could exist just outside of it, like standing on the bank of a river, and marvel at its strength and continuity, its uniqueness. At times, he felt that he could almost understand what made Humans so special to his Father and at other times, he felt as incomprehensive as a Fledgling.

Regardless, he was honored to have this duty.

Suddenly, a cold presence brushed against his Grace and he tensed, drawing his blade.

"Who comes?" he demanded.

"Gadreel, you don't recognize me, old friend?" Lucifer said in a wounded tone. "Has it truly been so long?"

Gadreel relaxed and smiled. "Lucifer," he nodded deeply in respect and sheathed his blade. "Forgive me. I should have known you."

Lucifer waved away the apology. "There is no need to be so formal, Gadreel," he said easily. "I am not Michael. I won't smite you for some _perceived_ disrespect."

Gadreel's mouth tightened at the name, uncertain of how things actually stood between the Archangels.

"Is it over?" he asked. "The fighting?"

Lucifer sighed. "So it would seem. Have you ever ventured inside?" he nodded toward the gate the Angel guarded.

"I have once, briefly, so that I would better know what I was guarding," Gadreel replied and his Grace swelled contentedly. "It is perfect. Father spared no effort."

"Hm," Lucifer studied the gate. "I see he truly means to keep them safe. I doubt anything could force its way inside even you weren't here to guard them."

"That is my hope," Gadreel said sincerely.

"You sound worried," Lucifer remarked. "Speak your mind, Gadreel," he urged when the Angel pursed his lips into a tense line.

"Earth is young," Gadreel began, his voice low with concern. "There is no evil here to harm Father's creations. But if the Darkness breaks free, will it not seek them out first?"

"The Darkness will never break free, Gadreel," Lucifer assured him with the utmost confidence. "In that, your worry is unfounded, my friend."

Gadreel let out an embarrassed sigh. "Of course. What brings you to Earth?"

"I wish to see them," Lucifer told him.

Gadreel's expression turned hard. "I cannot allow that."

Lucifer sighed. "Gadreel, I know you have been aware of my disagreement with Michael."

Gadreel nodded, his eyes burning with a warrior's wariness.

"I still do not understand how Father could favor these creatures over us," Lucifer went on, his voice grieved. "Yet, one thing Michael and I have always agreed upon, is that Father does nothing without a purpose. In light of that knowledge…perhaps I do not understand them—these Humans—well enough. I want peace to return to our home but that will not happen if I continue to be at odds with Michael. I only seek answers to my questions. The more knowledge I possess, the better able I will be to proceed."

Gadreel slowly relaxed and his eyes dropped in shame. "Of course, I understand," he said apologetically. "I have many questions, as well."

"I am sure they are the same as mine," Lucifer told him with a laugh. "Perhaps, I will be able to find answers for both of us. That is all I want, Gadreel. I have no intention of harming them. How would that avail me? We fought the Darkness together, my brothers and I. I fought to protect us all. Do you truly believe that I wish to undo it all and tear us asunder? I have only ever wanted what was best."

Gadreel nodded. "You always have," he agreed, remembering those days when the Darkness encroached on them, the power of the Archangels, the brilliance of the Morningstar's Grace as he fought to defend their home. "I should have known better than to doubt you."

He stepped aside.

Lucifer gripped his shoulder. "No, my friend, your skepticism serves your position well. I am only glad I was able to prove myself trustworthy. I won't be long. The sooner I return, the sooner I can set everything right."

Gadreel felt Lucifer's chilled Grace in the Garden as well as the Human souls within. The Archangel kept his presence subdued, undoubtedly wanting to remain unnoticed as he observed them. Then, it faded and Gadreel knew he had departed.

Something was wrong.

At first, it was nothing but an odd, vibration in the air, like a single, poorly tuned string on an instrument. Gadreel rushed into the Garden, blade drawn, ready to smite the thing that dared endanger his charges. Then, suddenly, the resonance of the souls shattered into an earth-rending scream of agony, then fell silent. He found them, desperately trying to hide and he could feel their souls, no longer pure and joyous, but broken and keening in grief and pain, their connection to Father completely severed.

Gadreel dropped his sword and sank to his knees, his wings collapsing on either side of him.

"No," he whispered in horror. "No this—this cannot be…What happened?!" He raised his eyes to Heaven as he felt his Grace speared through with his Father's grief. "Father, please…please forgive me," he pled as realization settled its crushing weight on him. "He said…he said…I trusted…"

 _I failed._

* * *

Castiel stood on the plateau, wings flared and Grace open. Eliyon suddenly appeared behind him and the Fledgling spun to grab him. Eliyon whirled away and nearly escaped cleanly, but as his wing flapped downward, Castiel's hand accidentally gripped one of the long feathers.

"OUCH!" he yelped and landed to inspect his wing.

Castiel rushed to him. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do that!" He dropped the bronze feather guiltily.

"What happened?" Balthazar asked, landing behind Eliyon.

"I pulled out one of his feathers," Castiel said.

"You alright, kiddo?" Gabriel asked, walking up to check the trio.

"I'm fine," Eliyon told him and flared his wings to shake off the residual sting. "Zachariah used to pull out a handful at a time on purpose."

Gabriel's eyes flashed wrathfully. "I'll remember that."

Castiel stared sadly at the plucked, bronze feather. Then, he held a deep breath, took hold of his wing and pulled out one of his ebony feathers, the same one Eliyon had lost.

"Castiel! Why did you do that?" Eliyon demanded in stunned horror, staring at the blood-tipped quill.

"Now it's fair," Castiel replied resolutely. "You lost one. I lost one."

"Ouch!" Balthazar hissed. " _Now_ , it's fair," he said, dropping one of his feathers on the ground, as well. "Now, we can keep going and no one has an advantage."

"What will you tell Esme?" Eliyon asked.

"She won't notice," Balthazar replied dismissively.

Suddenly, Eliyon paled and looked up, his silver eyes full of horror. Beside him, Gabriel stiffened and his eyes widened apprehensively. "Something's happened," he murmured and launched himself from the plateau.

"Gabriel! Wait!" Eliyon called and dashed off after the Archangel. Castiel and Balthazar followed close behind.

* * *

Lucifer flew toward Heaven, a feeling of deep satisfaction nestled comfortably within him. Just before he reached the gate, a force of unfathomable power seized his Grace and paralyzed his wings, holding him aloft.

"What have you done?" Michael demanded in horror, his own wings flared in anger.

Lucifer smirked. "Do you see now, Michael? Do you see what you bowed to? See how unworthy they are? How corrupted?"

" _You_ corrupted them," Michael spat. "Father—"

"Father chose those abominations over us!" Lucifer seethed. "He gave his love to creatures made of _dust_!"

"He has cast you out," Michael told him coldly.

Lucifer's pale eyes widened in shock. "Lies," he snapped.

"You think _I_ am keeping you out, Lucifer?" Michael asked bitingly. "If I had that power, I would have used it long ago. But, I shall take great pleasure in _keeping_ you out."

With a rush of wings, he surged forward and slammed his shoulder into Lucifer's chest, sending them both hurtling toward the Earth. Just before they hit the ground, Lucifer managed to grab one of his wings and hurl him away. With an agility not seen since the war with the Darkness, Michael twisted around and dove for Lucifer, driving him into the ground. The impact scorched the jungle around them into dead earth and sand for miles. Lucifer savagely kicked Michael away and stood. Michael leaped to his feet and the brothers drew their blades, circling one another, their wings flared in a terrifying display.

"You would subject us," Lucifer growled. "You would have us crawl on our faces in this mud and filth—"

"I would have us _obey_ ," Michael hissed.

"I will not bow to these abominations!" Lucifer roared and charged Michael.

Michael raised his blade to block the strike and the air rang with the clash. Black clouds rolled over the land and lightning flashed white and hot.

"Then, you will fall!" Michael's voice was cold as he punched Lucifer's Grace with his own, causing the Morningstar to stagger back with a gasp of pain. He raised his blade over Lucifer's head, not waiting for him to recover to continue the fight.

"NO!" Gabriel's shriek cut through the thunder. "Michael! Lucifer! Stop!"

The youngest Archangel dove between his brothers, desperate to stop the fight. Michael's blade scored a deep gash across his chest and Lucifer knocked him aside with a ruthless, backhanded strike that sent him tumbling limply across the sand.

"Gabriel!" He could just hear Eliyon's voice over the roaring in his ears and he started to get up, only to find that he couldn't move. Hot blood, his Grace, poured down his front and his head throbbed in rhythm to the earth-shaking thunder.

 _Father, please don't let this happen…_

Michael hesitated. Whether from the shock of Gabriel's suicidal intervention, or the fact that Lucifer hadn't hesitated to strike their youngest brother down, he wasn't sure. However, in that second, Lucifer attacked Michael side-on, slamming his blade into his brother's back and through the base of his middle right wing. Michael screamed in agony and Lucifer held him there, gripping his throat and jaw with his free hand. Then, his eyes devoid of mercy, of all traces of what had once made him Michael's brother, he twisted his sword, ripping through the flesh and muscle, breaking the bones apart as he angled the blade up and forced it through the base of Michael's topmost wing.

Michael's scream cracked the very ground and the sob that forced its way into it made it the most horrible sound Gabriel had ever heard. Michael's knees buckled and he gripped Lucifer's wrist with his left hand in a desperate attempt to stay upright, only to have his brother tear the blade free and shove him to the ground. Michael stayed down, his wings nearly severed from his back, his right arm—his sword arm—numb and useless, trembling with agony, crystalline tears sliding down his face.

Lucifer laughed, a pitiless rumble deep in his chest.

"There, Michael. That's the position you favored so much," he hissed, striding around to Michael's wounded side. He swapped his gore-coated sword to his left hand and reached down to force his brother against the ground.

Michael gasped and groaned, a pitiful sound that made his diminishing Grace build with wrath.

"You would keep me out?" Lucifer repeated his words at the gate in an amused tone. "Come on then, Brother. Let's see you try."

Michael's numb hand couldn't hold his sword any longer and he struggled to rise on his good arm. Each movement was pure agony and his wings felt as though they were going to finish tearing free under their own weight.

"No?" Lucifer mocked. "Well, that's a pity."

He gripped Michael's throat once more and hauled him to his feet. Michael groaned in pain and Lucifer placed the tip of his sword against his chest.

"My, how the proud have fallen," Lucifer remarked. He drew his arm back in preparation to drive it through Michael's heart.

With a cry of agony and defiance, Michael swung his wrist down and caught Lucifer's arm at the elbow, forcing it up and away from him so that the blade was at eye-level. His left hand he placed on Lucifer's chest and his eyes glowed with his wrath-fueled Grace. The Earth cracked open and a tremendous heat erupted from the fissure. Michael violently shoved Lucifer backward and the Morningstar cried out in fear as his hands grasped desperately at the edge. His midnight blue feathers began to smoke in the heat. Then, they caught fire. Lucifer shrieked in agony and desperate fear and met Michael's eyes one final time before the fissure slammed closed, swallowing the Fallen Archangel.

Michael sank to his knees, his breathing coming in ragged, agonized gasps. His Grace was dimming and his senses were leaving him. He could sense Raphael's approach and even without looking, he knew Gabriel was still collapsed in the sand. Then, for a moment he felt a third Grace of equal proportion. His own failing Grace flared in panic and he reached out, searching desperately for the source, bracing to feel a familiar chill, only to find nothing.

Lucifer was gone. The Earth was sealed.

Painfully, he craned his head to check on Gabriel and saw that bronze-winged Fledgling kneeling beside him, his little wings flared protectively.

Some part of him found that absurdly hilarious and a breathy laugh escaped him. A moment later, he collapsed face-first onto the ground, surrendering to oblivion.

* * *

Okay, let me say this. I don't like Michael. As I understand it, we aren't really _supposed_ to like Michael. But my gosh, I didn't intend for all of that to happen! Geez, Lucifer, you are a sadistic youknowwhat! It made ME feel bad! I mean, yes, I intended for the base idea to take place because it sets the stage for a future event but...sorry, Michael...


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Hihi! So, here we have some aftermath and boy did this chapter get long! I make no apologies :) Yes, I said this chapter holds SOME aftermath. I didn't even know there was going to BE this much aftermath in this chapter! Really, if you think about it, everything that happens after this point is aftermath...Aaannywaays...

Shoutouts to 1Corinthians 1313, PrincessMagic, CrystalVixen93, Saturnmieze and Krislyngera! Thank you guys so much for reviewing! It makes me so happy to read them!

Bytheby, when I picture Michael, I always see young John Winchester. So, if anybody was curious, that's the image I'm using. Could be worse ;)

Enjoy!

* * *

Eliyon chased after Gabriel, panic fanning his Grace and dread fueling his wings. He plunged headlong into the Ether and there, he lost sight of Gabriel's golden wings. He floundered, feeling as though he was moving through the ocean again, yet there was no friction against his wings. He felt like he was falling through the void and he panicked, instinctively reaching for Gabriel's Grace.

He found him.

Just like before, everything was sharper to his senses and he could feel Gabriel's pain and grief. Eliyon angled himself in the Archangel's direction, tucked his wings against his back, and fell. Earth suddenly loomed before him and he saw Gabriel dive between his brothers just as Michael brought his blade down on Lucifer. Eliyon's Grace froze within him as the blade carved down Gabriel's chest and in the same instant, Lucifer batted him away viciously.

The Morningstar's cool Grace had turned to murderous ice. Eliyon felt it slam into him and it was nothing like the day the Archangel's anger had reached him through the garden's wards. This was calculated, patient wrath. A desire for blood that would have waited an eternity to taste satisfaction. He felt it seeping into him, icy, insidious tendrils slowly winding around his Grace and suddenly, he realized that Gabriel wasn't moving.

"Gabriel!" he cried as he plummeted to the ground, opening his wings at the last moment to keep from colliding with the earth. His freshly healed injury sparked hot with pain and he fought to maintain his trajectory.

The Archangel didn't even stir. His eyes were closed and he lay on his side with two wings folded awkwardly beneath him, blood running over his face, dripping off the bridge of his nose, his Grace inert. Eliyon gripped his shoulder, connecting them physically while he nudged Gabriel's Grace with his own. Gabriel grasped it dazedly, confused but glad for the connection. Eliyon touched his chest, coating his hands in hot blood.

 _"Get…out of…here, kiddo,"_ Gabriel said through a weak pulse of Grace.

Michael screamed and his Grace exploded with agony, fear, anger…and betrayal.

Eliyon's mercurial eyes widened in horror at the sight of Lucifer's blade piercing through one of Michael's wings. Then, his horror intensified a thousand-fold when Lucifer twisted the blade and speared it through another.

 _Wings are precious things, little one._

He could see the tears sliding down the eldest Archangel's cheeks and his own eyes burned to see this atrocity committed.

Michael gripped Lucifer's wrist but he was searching for something else. Eliyon could feel the memories racing through Michael's mind and in the moment of his greatest agony, he was looking for his brother to guard him against the enemy that was killing him. Lucifer's eyes narrowed with contempt and he shoved Michael to the ground. Eliyon had always been afraid of the eldest Archangel, but seeing Michael on his face, broken and bloody, was the most terrifying thing he had ever witnessed.

 _Please, Michael! Get up!_

Lucifer dragged Michael up by his throat and placed his sword against Michael's heart. Dread settled its crushing grip on Eliyon and he sank to one knee, his free hand falling to one of Gabriel's wings, one of his second pair that he always wrapped around him when he was frightened. Michael's right first and second wings hung down his back, still spurting Grace, attached only by sinews and flesh. Lucifer's Grace burned like bitter ice and his eyes were satisfied slits at the sight of his brother at his mercy.

Eliyon couldn't look away from Michael's destroyed wings and suddenly, in his mind, they were golden. Six, golden wings that had only been used to comfort and protect, ripped to bloody shreds. Once Lucifer had finished with Michael, would Gabriel be next?

 _No! He won't get Gabriel! He can't!_

Eliyon regained his feet, his Grace pulsing hot and bright and his wings flaring threateningly.

Suddenly, Michael fought back. He blocked Lucifer's strike and his Grace erupted like an inferno. The Earth split open with terrible crack and Eliyon felt a tremendous heat wash over him.

Then, suddenly, Lucifer was gone and the Earth was sealed, leaving no sign of the rupture. Michael sank to his knees and long seconds passed before Eliyon's Grace began to dwindle from its panicked, protective state.

Then, Michael looked at him. The Archangel had never acknowledged his existence before now and Eliyon could see the unbearable agony in his emerald eyes. Sweat dripped from his black hair, making tracks down his face alongside his dried tears. A breathy, half-mad laugh that sounded like a sigh escaped him suddenly, and an instant later, he collapsed face-first onto the ground. Eliyon could feel his Grace pulsing weakly with exhaustion and, not knowing what else to do, he reached for him, expecting to be violently repelled. Michael's Grace flinched away from the contact but he lacked the strength to do more. Eliyon didn't press any farther but he kept his Grace within reach, just so Michael would know he wasn't alone. That had been the worst part for Eliyon, the day his Grace was collapsing in the garden, knowing he was alone.

Suddenly, the wind churned around them and Raphael landed in a flurry of gray feathers.

"Michael!" he called his brother's name, horror tinting his deep voice.

Eliyon's Grace pulsed resentfully.

 _Where were you when he needed you?_

"Can you stand?" Raphael asked him.

Michael managed to move his left arm, but that was all.

Gabriel's eyes opened slowly and he rolled onto his side with a groan. "Michael?" he called weakly, haunted by the sound of his brother's screams. "Raphael, is he alive?" His face was pale, his chest burned fiercely and he wasn't sure he even had the strength to get up, but he had to know.

"Yes," Raphael replied gruffly. "Help me get him up."

Gabriel nodded once and forced himself onto his front, grinding his teeth in agony. He had to crawl a few steps before he could stand, then he staggered to Michael's side. The sight of his brother's mangled wings made him want to cry and retch and he stood there, frozen with horror.

"Gabriel!" Raphael said sharply.

Gabriel jerked out of his stupor and knelt down to take Michael's left arm while Raphael gripped his right. Michael groaned at the contact, then as they stood with him between them, he screeched in pain, his once clear, true voice chiming out in harsh bursts. As Raphael adjusted his grip so that he could stabilize the wounded wings, Michael's eyes went wide and his knees buckled as he sucked in a ragged gasp that would have become a scream if he'd had the strength.

Gabriel cast a worried look at Eliyon, not wanting to leave him.

 _"I'll be alright,"_ Eliyon assured him with a pulse of Grace. _"Don't worry about me."_

Gabriel nodded. "I'll be right back. I promise."

He and Raphael took off with Michael and Eliyon watched them leave. Suddenly, the air felt empty, as though all life had been burned out of it. In a way, that was exactly what had happened. He looked around at what used to be miles of jungle, green and lush and teeming with life. Now, the ground was scorched to sand and he could feel the residual effects of the Archangels' wrath infused into the earth, spreading slowly like a blood stain. The land would never heal from this wound.

* * *

Michael struggled weakly in his brothers' grip, his jaw clenched in pain, determined not to cry out and failing in the endeavor. They dragged him to a surgical table and Gabriel released his hold. Raphael maneuvered Michael face down onto the sterile surface, expertly stilling his brother's agonized, jerking movements. Without a word, Gabriel fastened the restraints on Michael's wrists, ankles and across his neck and lower back and pinned his good wings down.

Michael gasped at the contact, memory telling him what was soon to come.

"Rapha-el," he ground out through gritted teeth, his hands clenching and unclenching against the pain.

Raphael glanced up at Gabriel and the youngest Archangel nodded sharply. He and Raphael had danced to this song before and no words were needed. Raphael cut away Michael's garments, peeling the bloody fabric away from his wounds. Michael jerked involuntarily against the restraints and Gabriel brought a bowl of warm water to Raphael, bracing himself for what was coming.

Jagged spears of bone were twisted up through the bases of Michael's wings and Raphael poured the water over the wounds so he could assess the full extent of the damage. Michael choked on a scream and groaned, trying to hold still so his brother could work quickly. As the blood rinsed away, Gabriel's throat closed at the sight of the scars on Michael's back from another battle so many eons ago. Though the wounds had healed cleanly, it was so easy to see how horrific they had been, even if Gabriel hadn't been there.

The long furrows across Michael's back. The deep punctures and rips in the flesh at the bases of his wings, and beneath the bloody, white feathers, _on_ his wings.

* * *

Gabriel flung yet another of the black, oozing creatures into the vacuum of Purgatory.

"You just had to decide to eat everything, didn't you?" he said acidly as it clung to the edge of the hole. He promptly drove his sword into its face. The Leviathan screeched and let go, falling into its cage. Gabriel turned and flapped his wings threateningly, his amber eyes flashing with wrath. Another dove for his throat and he skewered it through its neck, raking it off into the hole with his boot.

"Gabriel?!" Michael's voice rang with concern.

"I'm fine!" Gabriel yelled over the roaring and screeching.

He missed the next Leviathan as it dove for his back, fangs first.

Lucifer slammed into the creature, burying his hand in the black ooze and stabbing clear through its head, pinning it to the ground. Gabriel spun around, a heartbeat too late.

"You'll understand if I disagree," Lucifer remarked dryly as the Leviathan hissed wrathfully. Gabriel chopped its head off and Lucifer hurled both pieces into the vacuum.

They stood back to back for a moment, surveying the battleground. They had tracked the Leviathans to a thick forest and visibility was severely limited. While they could sense the creatures, there was so much residual ooze now that it was difficult to tell when they were coming.

Lucifer moved away, blade held defensively, watching the trees and underbrush. Michael met him halfway, looking in the opposite direction.

"Are you injured?" he asked.

"No," Lucifer replied. "You?"

"No," Michael said, shaking his head even though his brother couldn't see it.

"Is that all of them? Or are they regrouping?" Raphael called his question.

Michael pulsed his Grace through the trees and was met with a violent, ravenous hunger. "No, it isn't over yet," he warned.

"We've locked up hundreds of them!" Gabriel exclaimed. "How many did Father make?!"

"Too many," Lucifer commented darkly. He and Michael were still turning a slow circle and he caught a flash of dull silver on his brother's side. "You _are_ wounded," he said in an accusing tone.

"It barely counts as a cut," Michael retorted. "But while we're on the subject, would you like to talk about your leg?"

Lucifer curled his lip into a snarl and cursed under his breath. "It's nothing."

"Let's leave it at that then, shall we?" Michael suggested blandly.

Blackness exploded from between the trees, fangs filled their vision as unholy screeches filled their ears. The Archangels fought until they had the majority of the creatures caught in their midst, then flared their Graces, white and hot, enveloping the trees and forcing the Leviathans into their prison. When the light faded, they saw several gathering themselves for another attack. The ground was scored with claw marks from where the beasts had stopped themselves from sliding into Purgatory.

"These are stronger," Michael warned.

"Great," Gabriel muttered.

The Leviathans hissed wetly and the Archangels realized they were laughing. They were still laughing when they launched themselves at the Heavenly warriors. They stabbed and slashed and flared at the beasts, trying to force them into the hole. Black slime stained their wings and talons ripped silver slashes across their bodies.

None of them sensed the massive, black beast lurking between the trees, watching and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Michael lunged forward, skewering one the few remaining creatures and shoving it through the hole with a hot pulse of Grace, his foot coming down hard in a black puddle, splashing ooze up his leg. Then, suddenly, the puddle wasn't a puddle and a Leviathan wrapped itself around his calf with a triumphant hiss. He twisted to hack its head off and flung it into its cage.

The Beast charged, hurling itself at the eldest Archangel as a shapeless mass, slamming into his side. The Leviathan wrapped itself around Michael's torso with terrifying speed and before he could raise his blade to stab it, it ensnared both of his arms and clung to his wings like pitch while another portion of it snaked up and wrapped around his throat, crushing his voice. Then, part of the black ooze took shape and became an arm and talons that raked across Michael's back. Michael cried out in pain as the claws gouged through flesh and muscle, digging in deep to anchor the Beast. A head reared up out of the mass, an impossibly wide mouth spilling a gleeful screech as it buried fangs into the base of his middle, right wing.

Michael screamed in agony, desperate terror fueling his Grace as he tried to throw the Beast off but it only bit deeper, rending muscles and snapping bones with wet cracks. Michael staggered and fell, landing on the Beast and driving its fangs even deeper into him. For the briefest second, it released him, only to attack his top wing even more viciously. Heaven and Earth rang with his pealing screams as the Leviathan ripped and chewed and snatched, tearing through his wing…tearing it _out_.

Then, suddenly, Lucifer was there, his Grace flaring bitter cold with his wrath. He seized the Leviathan and Michael shrieked as Lucifer ripped the monster off of his brother, the fangs pulling free with a sickening, wet sound. The Beast laughed in his murderous grip, flesh and feathers hanging from its mouth. Michael's left wings flapped desperately, weakly, as he tried to drag himself away with his good arm. Lucifer drove his blade through the Leviathan's head and the Beast experienced the fullest extent of the Morningstar's wrath. Blue-white light filled it, enveloped it. Then, as it subsided, the Leviathan hung limp in Lucifer's grasp, a smoking, twitching, reeking mass of black that he hurled vengefully into the hole.

"Seal it!" he barked and Gabriel and Raphael rushed to close the opening.

Michael was still trying to move, his shredded voice chiming harshly with pain and panic.

Lucifer dropped his blade and fell to his knees beside him. "Michael!" his voice was low with horror.

"Luc—" Michael sounded close to retching and his fingers dug into the stained dirt.

Lucifer gripped his shoulder and Michael groaned sharply. "Hold still, Brother," Lucifer instructed.

Michael let out a shuddering moan and pressed his forehead into the ground. "Lucifer!" he gasped pleadingly, almost whimpering.

Lucifer pulled Michael up against his chest and his heart seized when his brother cried out at the movement. Agony etched harsh lines in his face and clouded his piercing, emerald eyes. Lucifer held him, pressing his cheek into his shoulder with one hand while holding him immobile with the other on his back. Bright silver Grace poured from the jagged gashes in his back and wings and Lucifer felt him trembling, a deep shudder that emanated from the very center of his being. Michael's breathing came in short, panicked gasps and he clutched pleadingly at Lucifer's clothes.

Lucifer wrapped Michael in his Grace and his brother moaned hoarsely as the chill soothed the unquenchable fire burning across his back and wings.

* * *

Gabriel stood by Raphael's side, handing him bandages and salves before he could even ask for them. His Grace swelled with grief until he thought he was either going to burst or implode. Michael groaned and jerked in the restraints, breathing hard and cursing in Enochian. He bit the inside of his jaw until it bled to keep from calling out for the one person who could ease his pain. The Rit Zien assisted in silence, cleaning the area around the wounds so that the bones could be put back together. Last time, Lucifer had snarled them away. Last time, there had been three of them to put their brother back together.

Without a word, Raphael gripped the middle wing with both, bloodied hands and torqued it violently, twisting bones back together and back inside the flesh. Michael's scream was loud and shrill and even the Rit Zien winced at the sound. Then, it was over and Raphael bound the wing to keep it immobile and Michael fell limp, his eyes wide and lost. Gabriel touched his arm and tried to push some of the pain out with his Grace, knowing that it would never be enough.

This was Lucifer's parting gift to Michael.

The top wing went back together more quickly, having not endured the same horrible wrenching that the middle one had and soon, Gabriel was unfastening the restraints. Michael didn't move beyond breathing, his strength utterly spent. Raphael turned away to wash the Grace from his hands and the Rit Zien gathered up what was left of the bandages.

Gabriel gingerly lifted Michael's head and pressed a cup of water to his bloody lips. "Here, Michael, drink something, it'll help."

"N-no," Michael protested weakly, barely conscious.

"Yes," Gabriel insisted. "It'll help."

Michael forced his eyes open and accepted the water with painful, halting swallows. Then, he just laid there, breathing hard as though just that small action had nearly been beyond him.

"Is it done?" he asked hoarsely.

Gabriel nodded, his heart breaking farther at the haunted look in Michael's eyes. "As soon as you can move, we'll take you to your aerie."

Michael barely managed a nod. "The…Fledgling…" he ground out weakly.

Gabriel's heart stuttered. For a moment, he'd forgotten about Eliyon. "I had to take care of you first," he said.

"Let me see you," Raphael ordered and turned Gabriel to face him. The gash across his chest was deep and still seeping silver Grace, though not as badly as before.

"I'm fine," Gabriel said tonelessly. "I need to get Eliyon." He left the room without another word.

* * *

Eliyon felt an odd presence pulse across his Grace. At first, anxiety pulsed through him but then he realized that the presence held no malice and went to investigate. The dead ground became lush again and his wing ached dully as he flew, preventing him from even getting level with the treetops. Just as he was about to give up, he saw them. Dropping to a ridge, he watched the two figures walking away from a barrier of the largest trees he had ever seen. He stared after them and a small voice in the back of his mind supplied the name Humans.

They looked so sad, he could feel it resonating against his Grace but not connecting with it like an Angel's would have.

The Voice supplied the word Soul.

Squinting tiredly, he could see it—their souls. A light nestled within their bodies that was brighter than any Angel's Grace and infinitely stronger. However, something seemed…wrong. The souls seemed damaged, he could feel a keening pain emanating from them. Even still, the light was beautiful.

This was what Lucifer had hated so much?

From somewhere beyond those impenetrable trees, he felt an unfamiliar Grace and terrible pain speared through him. Pain and grief and shame and—

 _"Please, Father…forgive me!"_

 _"Eliyon?"_

The Fledgling felt Gabriel's call and pulsed his Grace in reply. An instant later, the Archangel landed beside him.

"Why are they like that?" Eliyon asked, pointing toward the Humans.

"Why are they like what?" Gabriel asked in tired confusion.

"What's a Soul?" Eliyon said the word slowly, as though afraid to mispronounce it.

"It's what Humans have," Gabriel tried to explain. "Father made Angel's with Grace and he made Humans with souls. I'm not really sure why."

"Who's in the Garden?" Eliyon asked, drawing Gabriel's attention to the trees.

Gabriel wearily pulsed his Grace and nearly reeled with the pain pouring out of Gadreel.

 _"Gadreel, this wasn't your fault,"_ he tried to tell him _. "When Lucifer sets out to destroy something, nothing stands a chance. Unless, you're Father."_

 _Or a Leviathan._

"Is Michael…is…he…?" Eliyon wasn't sure what to ask.

"His wings will heal," Gabriel told him. "He'll live."

 _More or less._

"Come on, let's go home," Gabriel urged gently.

Eliyon nodded and Gabriel picked him with a soft groan and flew back through the Ether, not stopping until he reached his aerie. He spied Raphael leaving Michael's and sighed with relief that maybe his brother could get some rest.

 _Yeah, like there is anything Raphael could give him that would dull that pain enough to actually let him rest._

Gabriel closed the door and slid down the wall to sit on the floor. His amber eyes dull and dark with grief and pain. He looked up to see Eliyon watching him closely, his brow furrowed with the suffering he felt through the Archangel's Grace, Gabriel's _and_ Michael's.

"Did you get hurt, kiddo?"

Eliyon looked into Gabriel's exhausted eyes, his shattered gaze, and shook his head, pushing the ache in his wing to the back of his mind.

"Guess that's something," Gabriel muttered and his voice broke.

Eliyon wrapped his arms around Gabriel's neck and the Archangel's six wings enveloped them both as tears streamed down his face.

"I never thought…never thought he actually _hated_ Michael," he whispered brokenly. "But…that's the only thing that…makes sense…He'd rip his wings up like that— _just like_ that! He was the only one who could fix it last time. The _three of us_ put him back together!"

Eliyon drew back slightly in shocked fear.

 _This happened before?!_

Gabriel sniffed hard. "See, kiddo, there are these things called Leviathans…"

* * *

Eliyon sat pressed against Gabriel's side in the dark. The Archangel had fallen asleep on the floor after he'd finished the story.

Leviathans. Creatures that even the Archangel's couldn't kill but could kill an Archangel.

Lucifer had saved Michael and fixed his wings…the same wings he'd ripped apart hours ago.

 _Lucifer fixed my wings too…fixed them with his Grace the same way he did Michael's…_

He fidgeted with the feathers of one wing and thought, with a certainty born of grief, that he could still feel that powerful, invigorating chill.

His eyes widened suddenly. He _could_ still feel it! Quickly, yet gently, he disentangled himself from Gabriel's arm and wings and left the aerie. For a moment, he considered asking Balthazar for help. His friend had a well-earned reputation for being sneaky. He shook his head, discarding the idea. If he was caught, he wanted to be the only one punished. Besides, he was faster than Balthazar and he suspected that the Angels would be watching for someone sneaking around. He raced through Heaven until he reached the choir, their voices raised in mourning. He didn't stop, grabbing a resonance stone as he flew by. He wasn't stealing it. He'd bring it back once he was finished.

 _I need to go somewhere no one will notice me…_

 _The Mercy Room._

He flew for the Citadel and slid to a stop just inside the doorway, not wanting to be disrespectful but needing to hurry, as well. He clenched his teeth and plucked one of his flight feathers. They were the biggest, so he reasoned they would hold more of Lucifer's Grace. Then, he froze as he realized he had no idea how to draw the Grace from his feather. He knew the library probably had the information he needed but he didn't have time to hunt for the right book. A book he might not even be able to read.

He frowned at the feather, concentrating until he could feel his Grace beneath Lucifer's, warmth beneath the ice. Then, with an effort that was actually painful to exert, he slowly began to separate the two. The lingering residue of Lucifer's Grace wafted up like steam and Eliyon cupped his hand over it to keep it from escaping and hissed through his teeth as the cold bit into his palm. By the time he had it all, his hand was burning. He dropped his feather and, hoping his idea would work, pressed the resonance stone into his palm. The crystal absorbed the blue-white light eagerly, almost as though it remembered what it felt like to reverberate with the Morningstar's powerful voice.

He tucked the feather into his belt and turned to leave, pausing when he heard a low voice coming from the far side of the altar. Moving quietly and cautiously, he approached the sound, feeling a profound grief pressing against his Grace and he knew who it was before he saw him.

Gadreel knelt by the altar, his forehead pressed against the golden rim, his lips moving in a fervent, almost silent prayer. Slowly, he raised his head and his shimmering eyes found Eliyon in the half-light of the lamps.

"What do you need, little one?" he asked gently, his voice rough with tears.

Eliyon shook his head. "Nothing," he said quietly.

Gadreel nodded slowly and his gaze fell on the smoldering coals.

Something resonated with Eliyon's Grace. "I don't think Father is angry with you," he said softly, sad for the warrior's grief and fear.

Gadreel closed his eyes painfully. "I wish I could believe that," he said quietly. "My only hope is that, perhaps one day, he will be able to forgive me. Go back, little one, before you are missed."

Eliyon nodded and left, but not for Gabriel's aerie. He landed on the edge of one of the massive arches that allowed light and air into Michael's aerie. Gabriel's aerie had similar arches but they weren't nearly as large. Raphael sat by Michael's bedside, keeping watch over his brother. Eliyon could feel the protective wrath simmering in the dark Archangel's Grace and he swallowed nervously. If Raphael caught him and found out what he meant to do, he'd never allow it. How could he? What could possibly make him tolerate even a residual presence of his Fallen brother?

 _But Michael needs this…_

He flared his wings, preparing to fly.

 _I'll have to be quick…_

Suddenly, Raphael stood and walked to the end of the bed, needing space to stretch his tired wings.

Eliyon darted into the room faster than a blink and went to the decanter of water on the table by the bed. Even in his sleep, Michael's face was drawn with pain and he could see the bindings on his wings to keep them from moving. The memory of those injuries pierced Eliyon deeply and he frowned, focusing on his task. Concealing the glow of the crystal with his hands, he upended it and willed the Grace into the water. Slowly, the smoky light slid into the container. Too slowly.

Raphael's wings reached the full extent of their stretch.

The last smidgeon of Grace left the crystal.

Eliyon whirled and dashed out of the room just as Raphael turned around and resumed his seat. Breathing hard from his panic, he flew back to the choir, deposited the crystal unnoticed and flew back to Gabriel's aerie. The Archangel was still sleeping and Eliyon curled up against him again. Then, beyond exhausted, his wing pulsing with sharp pain, he fell asleep with his fingers twined in Gabriel's feathers.

Michael awoke, gasping and feverish and instinctively reached for the water by his bed. White-hot fire seared across his back with the movement and he hissed in pain.

"Stay still," Raphael told him, touching his shoulder to steady him.

Michael blinked in pained confusion, trying to breathe through the heat burning through his chest and back.

 _Raphael…? No, that's…where is…?_

He shut his eyes in a wince as heat pulsed through him again with a vengeance.

 _No, that's wrong._ Everything _is wrong._

Raphael poured some of the water into a basin, wet a cloth and placed it on Michael's forehead, the cool liquid warming almost instantly against his hot skin. Then, he poured a cupful and held it to his brother's dry, cracked lips. Michael sipped it eagerly, the chill soothing his ravaged, swollen throat.

Then, the chill spread to other parts of him. Relief flooded him as the fire was smothered by the cold and the unexpected sensation was so _familiar_ that it brought tears to his eyes and he almost started sobbing.

Raphael took the cup away and he reached for it weakly, desperately. Then, it was back and the cold liquid pressed against his lips and he opened his mouth to gulp it down, yet wanted to savor it, afraid that there wasn't ever going to be more.

"Slowly, Michael," Raphael instructed patiently, pulling the cup back. He wiped his brother's cheek dry where some of the water had escaped. Michael's pained gaze was fixed on the cup.

 _No, you don't understand…you don't understand! That isn't just water, Raphael!_

"You must drink it slowly."

Michael nodded weakly, agreeing because it was the only way he'd get the water back, the only way he'd feel that soothing cold. By the third cupful, his burning, damaged Grace was enveloped in a sheet of ice that seemed to melt and melt, turning into chilled rivulets that spread to the very edge of his being, yet never disappeared. His breaths came easier and he relaxed into his pillows, almost positive that the edges of his feathers were frosted over.

 _Thank you…_

Raphael re-wet the cloth and placed on his forehead again. He could even feel the chill from that seeping into him, calming the pain piercing him mercilessly behind his eyes. He drifted off to sleep, his side rising and falling in a deep, easy rhythm and Raphael sighed with relief.

Neither Angel noticed the bronze feather lying quietly on the floor.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Okay, more aftermath and no, things are not looking up just yet. Sorry for the extreme delay. I'd say, please accept this long chapter as a peace offering but that would imply that I made it long on purpose. I didn't. It just wouldn't end until things reached some kind of resolution.

Shoutouts to: monkeygirl77, Kathy, Krislyngera, Diane279, 1Corinthians 1313 and PrincessMagic! Thank you so much for reviewing! You have no idea how happy it made me to read what you had to say.

The only warning I will give is this: Moments of grief bring out the best and worst in everyone.

Enjoy!

* * *

Michael awoke slowly, blinking against the soft light that filled his aerie. He was still lying on his side, pillows against his back to keep him from turning over onto his wings.

"How long?" he asked, his voice hoarse and grating.

"Two days," Raphael replied, pouring him a cup of water.

He drank it eagerly but the comforting chill he'd been expecting was absent.

"I had to have the pitcher refilled three times," Raphael said gruffly. "Your fever finally broke early this morning. I need to check your wings."

Michael clenched his jaw and nodded. Carefully, Raphael unwound part of the binding on his middle wing and the sigh that hissed out of him was one of disgust and dismay.

"It's going to be some time before these heal enough for you to use them," he said. "I'm going to remove most of the bindings so the wounds can breathe."

Michael nodded again and ground his teeth as the bandages were removed. Every tiny movement, every point of pressure, even the places where the pressure disappeared, put hot knives in his back. He knew he would heal, the worry of being permanently grounded never crossed his mind, but he would have to endure this agony until then.

 _That first pitcher of water…where did it come from?_

In the beginning, he'd thought perhaps it was just fevered delirium. However, he could still feel the lingering chill pooled in his wounds, knitting them slowly back together. Cautiously, he moved to the edge of his bed and stood, wincing and clenching his teeth against the pain in his shifting wings.

Raphael carefully probed the wounds. "Hm, they are healing well," he said in surprise. "I hadn't expected such fast progress since…"

Michael's Grace crackled dangerously. " _Do not_ speak his name," he growled.

Raphael nodded and resumed his examination. "As long as you are careful, we can leave them unbound," he said at last.

"Good," Michael replied tersely.

Raphael left the room and silence fell. Michael's grief warred with his wrath and the agony burning in his wings was the line between the two. His _brother_ had done this to him. Yet, it was his brother that he needed most…hadn't he been here? He'd felt Lucifer's cold Grace. He still felt it, lifting off of his wounds like steam. Hesitantly, he reached for the pitcher by his bed but when he touched it, he felt nothing. Then, ever so carefully, he started to unfold his wings and pain slammed into him with brutal force, nearly driving him to his knees. With cry of frustrated rage, his Grace flared and he dashed the pitcher to the floor where it shattered into sharp, gray splinters.

But for those thrice-be-cursed Humans, none of this would have happened! Lucifer had stopped fighting him! Their lives had returned to a peaceful, if somewhat tense state. Yet, the entire time, his brother had been plotting, looking for a way to corrupt Father's favored creation.

Michael straightened abruptly.

None of this should have happened.

He strode out of his aerie and down the corridor, his steps echoing off the alabaster walls, the fire of his pain replaced by wrath. He pulsed his Grace and an instant later, six Seraphs appeared.

"Bring Gadreel to me," he growled

* * *

"You need to eat, my friend," Abner urged. "Keep up your strength."

Gadreel shook his head, nursing a cup of water, his wings folded tightly to his back. His friend had practically dragged him from the Mercy Room earlier that morning and had been plying him with food and drink ever since.

 _All of this…everything that has happened, is my fault…_

Suddenly, six Seraphs appeared and gripped his arms, dragging him from his seat.

"Wait! What is this?" he demanded, fear shivering up his spine.

"Michael demands your presence," one of them told him.

Dread gripped him and he let himself be led away without a struggle. They took him to the steps of the Mercy Room and his Grace quailed at the sight of Michael standing beneath the arch. The Archangel's Grace crackled and the air was still beneath the weight of his fury. The Seraphs forced Gadreel to his knees and Michael slowly descended the stairs.

"Do you know what you've done?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Gadreel's pain shone from his eyes and tears shimmered in their depths. "I have begged for Father's forgiveness," he began softly. "I made a grave mistake—"

"Forgiveness?" Michael repeated harshly. " _Mistake!?_ You were given a holy duty. Of us all, Father selected _you_ to guard his most favored creation and you…You allowed _that serpent_ into the Garden. And after that, you expect _forgiveness?!_ "

Gadreel bowed his head as Michael's Grace rolled over him like thunder.

"You betrayed your duty," Michael said gravely, pitilessly. "You have betrayed Heaven. For this crime, you will spend the rest of your existence imprisoned and your name shall be stricken from our tongues. No longer, shall you be called 'Brother', for you are not."

Gadreel's eyes flew open and he lurched forward against the hands holding his arms in such cruel grips, reaching out in supplication. "Michael please, no," he pled, his voice choked with grief. "Please, I beg you, remember. Remember my years of service. I have always been faithful, diligent in my duty. For this, I beg you, grant me mercy!"

Michael's eyes flashed. "I am being merciful," he said coldly. He turned to walk back up the steps and Gadreel's breath caught in his chest at the sight of the Archangel's ravaged wings. His own burned with phantom pain at the quiet threat in Michael's words.

The Seraphs started to drag him away and he surged forward once more, falling back to his knees. An arm wrapped around his chest and he heard the ring of a blade leaving its sheath an instant before it touched his throat.

"Michael!" he cried desperately, reaching for the step where Michael stood and the Archangel turned back, his eyes smoldering with anger. "Please…I was deceived. Lucifer spoke of peace and reconciliation—"

"Even _if_ that were so, it makes little difference," Michael told him callously. "The result is the same."

Gadreel stared at him with a stricken expression.

 _Even_ if _that were so?_

"Please, Michael, let me redeem myself," he begged, stretching his fingers until he touched the step, just missing Michael's foot. "Grant me that one chance."

Michael stepped away from him as though he were filth. "You were complicit in the corruption of the very beings you were charged to protect," he said, his lip curled in contempt. "What _redemption_ is there for _you_?"

Gadreel closed his eyes as pain ripped through him at those words. The Seraphs dragged him away roughly and he fell limply into their hands, his instinct to fight drowned by despair.

 _"Father, forgive me…He deceived me…I would have never allowed harm to come to them…"_

 _My intentions make no difference. In the end, the result is the same._

They dragged him to the dungeon and stripped him of his armor and blade, leaving him in nothing but his loose pants. Then, they took him down one of the many corridors heading for a cell, he thought. They stopped in a wide room with two iron banded wooden posts in the center. They shoved him between the posts and fastened heavy manacles on his wrists and ankles. As soon as they locked together, sigils ignited over the metal and paralyzed his Grace. A lit brazier sat in front of him and he could feel the heat of the fire.

A guard sauntered in and cast a cool look over Gadreel's restrained form.

"You didn't bind his wings," he said to the Seraphs.

"He's bound," one of them replied shortly. "He couldn't move them if his life depended on it."

"Good," the guard responded, a predatory gleam in his dead, gray eyes. "You may leave now."

The Seraphs vanished and the guard produced an iron bar from behind his back.

"Gadreel, Gadreel," he shook his head. "I never would have dreamed that I'd see you down here. I suppose this is what happens when you support the wrong Archangel."

"I did not support Lucifer," Gadreel growled. "I am loyal to Heaven."

"Hm, Michael doesn't think so. That's why he sent you to me."

The guard suddenly held up a flask and poured a thick liquid over the end of the iron shaft he held. The smell reached Gadreel and he recognized it immediately.

Holy oil.

"What are you doing, Thaddeus?" he asked warily.

Thaddeus' only reply was a smug grin as he thrust the bar into the brazier and it ignited into flames. Suddenly, Gadreel realized what it was. He'd thought Thaddeus intended to beat him. Now, he wished that had been the guard's intentions.

"Thaddeus, what are you doing?" he asked again, hoping that the Angel would reconsider his plan.

"The Seraph's said you were bound, and they were right," Thaddeus replied, examining the flames as they died down, leaving a brightly glowing brand in their place. "I'm going to make sure you stay that way."

Gadreel began to struggle as Thaddeus approached him, drawing his arm back in preparation to drive the brand into his body.

"Thaddeus, no, don't," he said, his throat closing with terrified anticipation.

Thaddeus' gaze flicked up to his momentarily, a sadistic spark in his eyes. Then, he shoved the brand against Gadreel's chest and the Sentry's screams echoed throughout the dungeon.

* * *

Gabriel's wings drooped dismally, the long, golden feathers nearly dragging on the ground. He kept expecting to feel Lucifer's cool Grace brushing against his and every time, his hope was crushed by its absence. He walked the streets with his head bowed and no destination in mind, his thoughts spiraling darkly. His hand brushed his chest absently and he hissed as his gash throbbed painfully. He hadn't let Raphael tend to him before and now, after not leaving his aerie for two days, it was stiff and sore.

He really wanted something to smite.

"Gabriel?"

He glanced to his right in surprise. He'd forgotten that Eliyon was with him. The Fledging had been sticking close ever since Lucifer's fall.

"Are you alright?" Eliyon's brow was furrowed with worry. He could feel a terrible violence rippling beneath the surface of the Archangel's Grace and Gabriel's whole body was etched with grief and anger. He still hadn't told Gabriel about his wing, refusing to bother him with something so trivial while he was in such horrible pain, himself.

"I'm fine," he answered, pursing his lips into a grimace.

Lucifer was gone. Cast out. And Michael…

"Maybe Raphael—"

"I'm fine!" Gabriel growled, then felt guilty when Eliyon's wings twitched, startled, and his feathers flattened timidly.

 _Last time I scared him, Lucifer was there to fix it. He always fixed everything. He fixed Michael after the Leviathan's attack…and then…and then…_

He touched his chest again, gingerly this time. Michael hadn't been trying to kill Lucifer. If he had, Gabriel would have been cut in half when he jumped between them.

 _Michael doesn't care, Lucifer! Not like you do!_

He'd actually believed that when he spoke those words. A certain distance had always existed between Michael the rest of them, almost as though he couldn't be both their brother _and_ Heaven's Commander.

But if he hadn't cared, he wouldn't have restrained his attack.

The fact that Lucifer had managed to find a vulnerability to exploit was almost unfathomable. He'd never bested Michael before. Technically, he hadn't bested him this time.

 _What could have distracted him like that?_

Gabriel suddenly felt ill as he remembered the silence that fell in the seconds after Lucifer had attacked him. _He_ had been the distraction that cost his brother his wings.

If Michael hadn't cared, it wouldn't have been a distraction.

Michael's Grace suddenly brushed against his and he looked up to see his brother walking in the direction of his aerie and he froze in shock.

 _"Michael, what are you doing up?!"_

He felt Michael snatch his Grace back from him and decided not to pursue the matter right then. He stared hard at his brother's retreating back. His wings were unbound but they were pressed to his back, carefully kept out of the way.

 _I don't understand. Without Lucifer, I expected him to be down for a week, at least!_

He could still clearly see the healing wounds, the mangled, scarring flesh and twisted feathers and he suddenly wanted to cry. At the same time, a bitter anger pulsed deep within him, swirling like a storm.

 _If Raphael had been there, maybe we could have stopped them…_

"Is he going to be alright?" Eliyon asked. Relief and joy flooded him at the sight of the eldest Archangel on his feet. For the past two days, the image of him bloody and at Lucifer's mercy had haunted him.

"He'll be fine," Gabriel said.

 _Maybe I shouldn't have tried to stop them. He wouldn't be in this much pain if I had just stayed out of it._

A dull flash of white attracted Eliyon's attention and he stopped walking. Stuck between two rocks was a white feather, caked with silver. He picked it up gently, as though afraid it would break, and cradled it in his hands.

"Where was Raphael during the fight when Michael needed help?" he asked quietly, remembering feeling Michael's pain and fear and the third Archangel's late arrival.

Gabriel froze and his Grace stilled dangerously at what he heard as an accusation. "What?"

Eliyon looked up at him, surprised by the soft, angry tone. "What?"

"What did you just say?" Gabriel breathed, the air thrumming with his building wrath.

Eliyon's eyes widened in confusion and panic and his mouth worked furiously as he tried to answer. "I—I just…W-why didn't Raphael get there sooner?"

Gabriel's expression was suddenly thunderous and Eliyon quailed, his wings pulling in tight to his back. This was not the protective trickster that had saved his life and cared for him. This was the warrior that had thrown the Leviathans into Purgatory.

"You—you were on the plateau with me," he stammered frantically. "And you got to Michael long before he did…I just…w-w-where was he?"

"You think he left Michael down there?" Gabriel demanded coldly. "Is that what you think? That he _abandoned_ him?"

"No," Eliyon answered shakily, taking a half-step back.

"You actually think," Gabriel pressed, the air crackling with his Grace, "that he intentionally left Michael to fight alone?! That he just stood by and let Lucifer rip his wings apart?!"

"No! Gabriel, I—I don't!" Eliyon cried fearfully, the Archangel's wrath scorching his Grace.

"He's my brother!" Gabriel closed in on the terrified Fledgling. "We do not abandon each other! We never have!" Without thinking, his hand suddenly lashed out to grab Eliyon.

Eliyon launched himself into the air, his wings beating furiously as he tried to get away. Suddenly, his injured wing collapsed and he plummeted to the ground just outside the Fledglings' garden. He scrambled inside, dove into the bushes and silenced his Grace, breathing hard from his erratic flight and his fear.

 _What did I do? What did I say?_

His chest ached and his wing throbbed painfully. He tried to bring it forward to examine it but the muscles only trembled. He tried again, a little more forcefully and felt the bone split under the strain. He cried out, then bit his lip hard to keep quiet. If the Caretakers found him, they would tell Gabriel. He took his wing in both hands and brought it in front of him that way and tried to massage the pulsing heat away.

"Ow," he whimpered and tears filled his eyes and slid down his cheeks.

* * *

Michael stepped into his aerie and shoved the door closed, wincing as the violent movement tugged on his injuries. As he walked around his bed, he saw the pieces of the shattered pitcher and with a small, resigned gesture, he fused them back together on the table. He scowled, suddenly feeling imprisoned within his aerie. Until his wings healed, he was severely limited in where he could go. If it hadn't been for his brother's Grace, he wouldn't even be conscious, yet.

 _Perhaps that would have been better._

He shook his head, denying the thought immediately. He still had duties to perform, wounded or not. Although, performing them would be difficult while he was grounded.

His healthy wings shifted restlessly and a tiny movement caught his eye. A small, brown feather slid across the floor on the draft from his wings' movement and he picked it up and felt a tiny bite of cold on his fingers.

 _Who does this belong to?_

He studied it closely, suddenly suspicious of its presence. No Angel could enter his aerie without his knowledge and none dared to try, not even Balthazar was that bold. The color was too dark to belong to the errant Fledgling, anyway. As he turned it, the light splayed across the barbs and he realized the color wasn't a simple brown at all. He saw three colors, a deep brown was dominate but there was a faint trace of copper and gold. They were swirled together like freshly smelted bronze.

His eyes narrowed.

 _Bronze…_

* * *

Eliyon had yet to move from his hiding place. While he hadn't intended to take shelter in the Fledglings' garden, he realized that it would actually be the last place Gabriel would look for him. If he looked for him, at all.

Suddenly, an immense presence rolled through the garden and he held his breath.

 _Please, don't let it be Gabriel._

"Eliyon," the deep voice that called his name was definitely not Gabriel. "I know you are here, little one. Do not force me to find you."

Eliyon fought back fearful tears and edged out of the bushes. Michael stood just outside and he looked at Eliyon as though he had known where he was all along.

"Michael," Eliyon greeted him quietly, ducking his head.

"I discovered a curious thing today," Michael told him, "in my aerie."

Eliyon glanced up, puzzled, and his gaze was immediately drawn to the bronze feather that Michael twirled between his fingers. His eyes went wide and the color drained from his face.

"Would you care to explain yourself?" Michael asked.

Eliyon gave a tiny shake of his head. "No," he squeaked, even though he knew it wasn't really a question.

Michael fixed him with a stern, warning look.

Eliyon's lower lip trembled. "I only wanted to help," he said in a tiny, choked voice. "Gabriel told me about the Leviathans…about what happened…about—about Lucifer." He flinched when Michael's Grace pulsed angrily at the name. "I just wanted to help."

Michael studied him with a hard expression, rubbing the feather between his fingers. The residue of Lucifer's Grace pricked his skin like a thousand tiny, frozen needles. He could feel his brother's presence wafting off the Fledgling; it was how he'd found him.

"How did you come by Lucifer's Grace?"

Eliyon's shoulders fell and he was suddenly even more afraid. The Archangel was angry. If Michael found out about his wings, what would he do to them?

"He fixed my wings," he began, then fell silent when the air between them nearly snapped with tension.

"He fixed your wings," Michael repeated slowly, his voice laced with bitterness and his anger cresting like a wave.

"They were all cramped and Zachariah had pulled out my feathers," Eliyon began rambling in his attempt to explain. He missed the startled look that came over Michael's face at that revelation. "I couldn't fly and they weren't growing back and he…he fixed them."

Michael's anger peaked and passed and he felt himself fall into the following trough of grief. He sighed softly. Of course, Lucifer had mended the Fledgling's wings. His hatred seemed to have been reserved for him, and him alone.

"I didn't know his Grace was still on my wings until that day," Eliyon went on. "Then, I thought…if I could give it to you…"

Michael's mind suddenly reeled. "How did you do it?"

"I put his Grace into a resonance crystal—"

"How did you separate it from your own?"

Eliyon's mouth opened, then he paused. "I…just…did," he said at last. Honestly, it had never crossed his mind that night that he might not be able to extract Lucifer's Grace from his own. "And then…"

"You put it in the pitcher of water," Michael finished.

Eliyon chanced a look at the Archangel. "Did it work?" he asked hopefully.

The open care and concern resonated deep within Michael and his stern expression softened. "Yes."

Eliyon's look of relief was instantly replaced by one of anxiety. "I don't want my feathers pulled out," he said plaintively.

Michael's Grace rippled with shock and he shook his head sadly. "I would not do that to you, little one. Wings are precious things."

Eliyon dropped his eyes. "That's what he said. Then, he ripped yours apart."

The despair and mistrust that rolled off the Fledgling make Michael ache.

 _One so young should not feel such pain._

From the moment Eliyon had stepped into the open, Michael's keen gaze had taken in every detail about the Fledgling. Now that his questions were answered, those details came to the fore of his mind. He saw the way he trembled, the exhaustion in his eyes. Then, his gaze locked onto Eliyon's right wing and its awkward, resting angle.

"What happened to your wing?" he asked.

Eliyon blinked, puzzled by the unfamiliar tone of Michael's voice. "I don't know," he said. "The first time it started hurting was when I carried Bal—" he broke off with a furtive look in his eyes.

Michael's mouth twitched in amusement. "When you carried Balthazar away from me?" he inquired disapprovingly.

Eliyon swallowed hard. "Yes. But Gabriel fixed it. Then, it started hurting again when I went through the Ether."

Michael frowned at that. He remembered the Fledgling being on Earth during the battle but had never considered how he'd gotten there. "No Fledgling is strong enough to fly the Ether alone. You are lucky it didn't tear your wings out of your back," he said gruffly.

Eliyon paled at the thought and his lip trembled.

Guilt prodded Michael and he sighed. "Come, let me see it."

Eliyon stared at him dumbly and his feet moved on their own. Michael knelt in front of him and ran his hand lightly over the bones until he found a place that was hot and swollen.

"AH!" Eliyon cried, twisting away from him.

Michael caught him with his other hand and held him still. He tested the area with skilled fingers and found severe stress fractures spread through the bone like veins and one that had split it through.

"Michael! Michael, stop! Michael, it hurts!" Eliyon shrieked, struggling to escape the Archangel's solid grip, tears streaming down his face.

Michael paused and pulled Eliyon to him in a one-armed embrace, subtly trapping his arms against his chest and pinning his good wing to his back.

 _Am I responsible for this, as well?_

Eliyon's injury had been acerbated by his flight through the Ether, something he had only done because Gabriel had gone to Earth. Gabriel would have never gone to Earth if it hadn't been for his fight with Lucifer.

 _You mended me, little one, and braved our grief and wrath to do so._

"Eliyon, forgive me, little one," he said quietly. "This is going to be painful."

"What?" Eliyon squeaked and an instant later, Michael took hold of his wing.

As cold as Lucifer's Grace had been, Michael's was equally hot. Eliyon screamed into his shoulder as he felt liquid fire pour into the breaks in his wing, effectively searing the injury closed. Then, it was over. He collapsed against Michael's chest and the Archangel held him while he sobbed pitifully.

"I am sorry, little one," Michael told him, massaging his back between his wings. He could feel Eliyon's fear raging like a storm, both the lingering fear from the battle and from the pain he'd just endured for the purpose of healing.

Michael had a startling recollection.

 _You offered your Grace to me that day, little one._

Michael's embrace relaxed, becoming more comforting than confining and he opened his Grace to Eliyon, hoping the distraught Fledgling would understand. Eliyon seized the contact and wrapped himself in the Archangel's Grace and Michael wasn't sure which of them was comforted more.

Michael looked around the garden. "Why are you here, little one?" he asked gently. As far as he was aware, Eliyon had never come back to the garden since Gabriel had become his Caretaker.

"I made Gabriel angry," Eliyon whimpered and fear shuddered through him.

Michael stilled and horror lanced through him.

 _His wing…was it only from the Ether? No. Gabriel would never…He would never hurt this one, or anyone…_

 _But I've thought that once before…_

"I don't know what I did wrong!" Eliyon wailed inconsolably.

Michael's forced his anger down and away from the Fledgling wrapped in his Grace. Coming to a decision, he did something he hadn't done in eons. He wrapped Eliyon's wings around the Fledgling, cocooning him in feathers and held him like a babe, ignoring the throbbing pull on his own injuries. He massaged the back of Eliyon's neck and twined his Grace around the Fledgling's, lulling him to sleep.

 _"Esme,"_ he summoned the Caretaker with a pulse of Grace.

A moment later, she arrived and bowed, folding her soft, yellow wings behind her. "Michael," she greeted him.

He stood with Eliyon in his arms. "I want this one looked after."

Her eyes widened slightly and her lips pursed in a small frown. "Perhaps, Liel would be a better choice," she said. "He was her charge, after all."

"Liel neglected him," Michael said, stepping close. "I trust you will not."

"Of course not," she replied and he could see in her eyes that she understood this duty came with the promise of retribution if she failed. She gently took Eliyon from him and flew back to her Fledglings.

Michael left the garden, intending to settle this business with Gabriel, but another Angel near the barracks caught his attention and his Grace flared angrily.

"Zachariah!"

The Angel spun at the sound of his name and barely had time to flare his wings before Michael was on him. The Archangel pinned him to the wall, towering over him.

"I will only say this once," Michael snarled. "If you touch that Fledgling again, I will personally shred your wings. Do you understand?"

Zachariah nodded jerkily. The thought of feigning ignorance never crossed his mind.

Michael released him as abruptly as he had seized him and strode toward the Citadel. He stopped in the courtyard and pulsed his Grace throughout the whole of Heaven.

 _"GABRIEL!"_

The Angels in the courtyard fled from his thunderous presence as his good wings flared threateningly.

Gabriel failed to notice. The youngest Archangel raced toward the Citadel and practically fell to the courtyard because flying took too long. His own Grace hummed with panic and his amber eyes were wide with anxiety.

"Michael! Have you—"

Michael gripped his shirt with both hands and slammed him against one of the columns, leaving his feet dangling a foot from the ground. Instinctively, Gabriel started to fight back but Michael's Grace overwhelmed his easily, smothering it and leaving him defenseless.

"What is wrong with you?!" he snarled, his Grace crackling wrathfully.

"What are you talking about?!" Gabriel cried, pushing against his furious brother. "I need help, Michael! Eliyon—I can't find him!"

Michael's eyes flashed. "Why are you looking for him?" he demanded.

"I made a mistake! Michael, I have to find him! I have to fix what I did!"

Michael leaned close. "Did you break his wing, Gabriel?" he hissed.

Gabriel eyes went wide with horror. "It's broken?"

Michael shook him fiercely. "Did you _break_ his wing?!"

"No!" Gabriel cried. "No—Why would you think that? Where is he, Michael?" He couldn't remember ever being afraid of his brother, but suddenly, he was. "Michael, I'd never hurt him, not on purpose. You have to believe me!"

"Once I may have," Michael growled. "But after finding him hiding with a broken wing, I'm not so inclined."

"I didn't break his wing, Michael!" Gabriel shoved against his arms but to no avail. His eyes shimmered with tears. "I—I did flare on him. I didn't mean to! And I've been trying to find him ever since. You know where he is, Michael, please just tell me!"

"And what, pray tell, could he have possibly done to incite your temper in such a way?"

"He didn't do anything! It was all me. He just-he just asked a question. He wanted to know why I got to you faster than Raphael. It wasn't even really a question! He just said it out loud!" His voice suddenly choked and he stopped struggling. "What happened, Michael?" he asked as his feet touched the ground. "What happened to us? We were a family."

Michael released him finally. Gabriel's grief was palpable and he had to force himself to remember that even during his most violent moments, his youngest brother was not cruel.

Gabriel looked up at him and his gaze fell on Michael's two, healing wings. His mouth fell open in shocked horror.

"You…thought…You thought that…that I broke his wing," he whispered.

"I can see I was mistaken," Michael said gruffly.

"Not really," Gabriel said brokenly. "I mean, it's my fault anyway. He was running away from me."

Michael finally relented. "He's in the garden."

Gabriel spun away.

" _Leave_ him there, Gabriel," Michael's voice was low and uncompromising.

"What? Why?" he whirled back.

"Because that is where he needs to be," Michael said flatly.

"Since when?!" Gabriel demanded.

"Since the mere mention of you rendered him inconsolable," Michael informed him.

Gabriel froze. "He…What?"

"I saw the aftermath and it was enough to make me believe you had injured him," Michael said. "Can you imagine what went through _his_ mind at the time?"

Gabriel dropped his eyes, ashamed. Eliyon hadn't looked at him so fearfully even at the beginning, when he believed he was about to be punished for some unknown offense.

"I can't—I have to tell him I didn't meant it!" Gabriel spun to leave again.

"Gabriel!" Michael's voice was thunder and rumbled through the ground. Gabriel turned back, his wings tucked nervously. "Do not cross me in this."

Gabriel couldn't remember the last time Michael had spoken to him like that. The order was almost a compulsion. Even Lucifer had been wary of disobeying a command delivered in that tone. If he defied him, at the very least he would find himself sealed in his aerie. At worst…

"Why won't you let me fix this?" he asked plaintively.

"Because you can't," Michael said bluntly. "He cut his Grace off from you because he did not _want_ you to find him. If you go now, he'll only flee from you again. Is that what you want?"

Gabriel shook his head dismally.

"You betrayed him, Gabriel," Michael went on and Gabriel's head snapped up indignantly. "You were his Caretaker. He trusted you above all not to harm him and you did. Let that pain fade as much as it can. Let him forget, as much as he can, of the affairs of Archangels. He won't be a Fledgling for much longer, Gabriel. Let him have what precious little of that time he has left."

All the fierceness fled from Gabriel's form and his wings drooped to the ground. "Is he alright?" he asked softly. "I mean, did someone take him to the Rit Zien or…?"

"He's fine," Michael assured him.

"Just…tell me you didn't give him back to Liel," Gabriel asked with dread.

"I put him in Esme's charge," Michael replied. "He seemed to have grown fond of Castiel and Balthazar. I thought they would be good for him."

Gabriel nodded and turned away slowly. "Alright."

He flew back to his aerie and sealed it. He slid down that wall to sit on the floor, the same place where he'd told Eliyon about the Leviathans, about when Michael and Lucifer had still been brothers.

He'd lost his brother and his charge, and in losing those, he'd lost his two best friends.

"Eliyon, I'm sorry, kiddo," he cried quietly. "I really am."

In his grief, he failed to realize that not only had Michael avoided his question about whether or not Eliyon's injury had been tended, but that his brother had found the Fledgling when he couldn't.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Hihi! So I couldn't leave it just yet. Updates only happen this fast on blue-moon-rare occasions.

Okay, so, something that's been on my mind for a while is just how horrible a weapon Michael's lance was. I mean, designed to kill Angels in the most horrific way possible and intended for Lucifer? What kind of hate does that take? Hence, the horrific-ness of their battle.

Shoutouts to: 1Corinthians 1313, Spyrofury767, Kathy, monkeygirl77 and Diane279! Thanks so much for talking to me! Mwah!

Kathy, I can't reply to your reviews but I do read them and they mean a lot to me!

Enjoy!

* * *

Light danced gently on Eliyon's eyelids and he grunted resentfully. This was the first time in two days he'd slept without nightmares and he didn't want to wake up, yet.

"Balthazar! He's waking up!"

Eliyon's eyes snapped open in confusion. Castiel sat on his knees in the grass beside him, his blue eyes wide with relief. Balthazar landed beside him in a small rush of wind and dropped to his hands and knees, as well, almost directly in Eliyon's face.

"Sleepyhead," he teased, but there was a heaviness in his voice he couldn't quite hide.

"Where am I?" Eliyon asked sleepily.

"You're in the garden," Castiel told him. "Esme came back with you yesterday."

"Where did she go?" Eliyon asked, now horribly puzzled. "Where was I?"

"You really _were_ asleep," Balthazar remarked. "She told all of us to be nice to you because Michael wanted you in our Flock and he'd be angry if we weren't. Of course, we're already nice to you," he grinned. "I don't know where Michael was though."

Eliyon suddenly remembered and tried to sit up, only to find himself restrained. He looked down at himself in a panic and realized that it was just his wings wrapped around him. He disentangled himself slowly, as though his wings were comfortable just where they were, thank you, and didn't want to be moved.

"Where is Michael?" he asked.

"I don't know," Balthazar answered. "I never saw him." Then, his attempts at humor stopped completely and his face fell. "We tried to follow you, Eliyon. We really did. But Esme caught us before we could get into the Ether."

Eliyon blinked at him, then remembered that Balthazar and Castiel had been on the plateau with him and Gabriel that awful day.

"We never would have just left you to follow Gabriel alone," Castiel said solemnly.

Eliyon nodded. "I know." He gingerly touched his right wing, expecting pain and surprised when there was none. He gripped it a little more firmly, then, testing the place that had been broken.

"What happened? Does it hurt?" Castiel asked.

"It was broken," Eliyon told him and gave a few tentative flaps. His wing was as strong as it ever had been.

"Who fixed it?"

"Michael did," Eliyon said quietly.

" _Michael_ did?!" Balthazar exclaimed and shot Castiel an incredulous look. "Where was Gabriel? Why did Michael do it?"

Eliyon's wings drooped. "I made Gabriel angry."

"How?" Castiel asked worriedly.

"I don't know."

"Come, come, little ones," Esme called. "It's time for our lessons."

Eliyon looked up to see the smallest Fledglings toddling over to the Caretaker.

Balthazar groaned. "Let's go play."

"I think I'll stay here," Eliyon said quietly. "I don't feel much like playing, right now."

They looked at him in surprise, then at each other and nodded.

"But not too close, alright?" Balthazar said. "She'll make me help tell the story if she sees me."

Eliyon nodded, managing a weak smile and Castiel helped him to his feet. Movement caught his eye and he looked to see one last Fledgling making his way to the group. He was young enough that his wings were still nothing but puffs of white down. He toddled too quickly and fell down with a soft _whoof_ of air. Eliyon flew to him and picked him up. The Fledgling looked up and squealed with delight at the sight of a new face and Eliyon carried him to the group.

"Me! Me!" the Fledgling cried worriedly.

Esme looked up and smiled gently. "Yes, Samandriel, I'm waiting for you."

Samandriel squealed again and bounced in Eliyon's arms. Eliyon set him down and Samandriel immediately wanted to be picked up again.

"See! See!"

Eliyon shrugged and sat in the grass, pulling the Fledgling into his lap. The bases of Samandriel's wings were a bright orange and tiny yellow feathers peeked out. The sunny colors seemed to fit the excitable Fledgling.

"Ah, Balthazar, I'm so glad you decided to stay," Esme said, catching sight of the errant Fledgling. "Would you be so kind as to assist me today?"

Balthazar frowned and crossed his arms, flattening his wings defiantly.

"Bal'zah!" Samandriel whimpered. "No 'eave!"

Balthazar looked at him, the little trembling lip and sighed. He shuffled forward with a groan and the small group cheered happily. He kept his chin tucked on his chest, but he couldn't help but grin. Esme began to tell them about the animals that Father had created on Earth and Balthazar imitated each one mentioned, albeit a little more enthusiastically than necessary. The Fledglings cackled with laughter but afterward, when Esme asked them questions about the animals, they all answered correctly.

All but Samandriel. The Fledgling had fallen asleep in Eliyon's lap halfway through the lesson and was contentedly sucking his thumb.

Esme dismissed the group and came to collect the sleeping babe. "Thank you, Eliyon. I have the most difficult time getting him to sit still during the lessons. He pays far too much attention to Balthazar's behavior, I think."

She took Samandriel out of his arms and he felt a tug on his wing. He looked to see Samandriel's chubby hand fisted around one of his feathers. He gently pulled out of the babe's grip and Esme took him away.

"Balthazar," she called as she walked toward the nests, "do try to behave."

Balthazar spun away and rejoined Castiel and Eliyon, making no promises.

"Let's go!" he urged and they left to find a place to play.

* * *

Michael leaned over his desk, studying the designs he'd just finished creating. He'd known that casting Lucifer into Hell would only be a temporary solution. The Fallen Archangel would find a way out eventually.

After remaining silent for so long, Father had provided a different solution. A cage. A cage that would be buried in the deepest region of Hell and locked with six hundred seals. A perfect unbreakable prison.

Michael traced the lines with his finger, his good wings flattened against his back and his jaw clenched. His grief and anger had combined and become something else, something darker. Bitterness coursed through his being and he felt it rise in his throat like bile. Even after committing such an atrocity, even after his open defiance, Father's solution was to simply lock away his favorite son.

"Your will be done, Father," he said solemnly and left his aerie. He had a far more permanent solution in mind.

He headed for Heaven's forges and descended the stairs into their depths. The glow of the fires was as beautiful as it was terrifying. Next to each forge were two enormous basins. One held the molten, celestial steel that constantly bubbled, releasing great gouts of vapor that would permanently cripple a careless passerby. The other only held blackness and the chill that pooled there was just as lethal as the heat. He watched for a moment to familiarize himself with the process, once again.

One of the smiths glanced up and startled slightly to see Heaven's Commander standing there.

"Michael," he greeted, his voice hoarse from the heat. His wings were bound tightly to his back to keep them safe and his hands bore the scars of his work. Being so close to such extreme temperatures, they were impossible to avoid.

"As you were," Michael told him and the smith nodded and resumed his task.

Michael watched as he lifted a pair of tongs from the blackness. The end was cylindrical and as long as the handle of the blades they created. The smith plunged the end into the molten metal and withdrew it slowly. The ore within the cylinder had already hardened and the chill from the tongs slid down, practically freezing the liquefied metal as it dripped, forming a slender, tapering weapon. Then, before the inner heat could overpower the confining cold, the smith plunged the new weapon into the second basin, into the cold blackness of the void. When he withdrew it, the blade was dull and gray and he immediately set to honing the edges and polishing it to a silvery-blue shine.

Michael nodded to himself and walked on past, heading toward the end of the hall where one forge sat dark and cold. The basins here were small, having never been meant to produce weapons in significant quantity and the ore was dark and hard. With snap of his fingers, the forge blazed to life with a dull roar and he sighed as the heat washed over him. Slowly, the ore began to flex as the heat forced bubbles to the surface. When one finally broke through, the air sizzled from the eruption of vapor.

He picked up the cold tongs and studied the now glowing ore, trying to determine how to proceed. Ever so carefully, he dipped the cylindrical end into the molten metal but didn't submerge it completely so that when he withdrew it, it clung to the inside of the tongs, creating a hollowed end. He repeated this process several times until he had achieved the desired thickness but when he started to develop the bladed end, it collapsed from the weight.

He nodded patiently and started again. After all, crafting the weapon was only the beginning.

* * *

Night fell and the stars swirled around Heaven like water currents, creating a mesmerizing visage that promised to lull even the fussiest Fledglings to sleep.

Eliyon woke with a cry and clapped his hands over his mouth to muffle the sound. He rolled onto his side, curled as though in pain and tried to breathe. The nightmare wouldn't leave him. He could still see Lucifer standing over Michael, Gabriel lying barely conscious. Only this time, Michael never got back up. The Earth never swallowed Lucifer. He stood over them, his hands covered in silver Grace and gold and white feathers littering the ground at his feet—

"Eliyon!" Castiel whispered loudly, trying to get his attention without waking the others.

Eliyon jerked when his friend touched him and curled farther away from him.

"Eliyon, it's alright," Castiel told him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's just a bad dream."

Eliyon's gaze finally acknowledged his friend and on the heels of his relief came shame that he had woken Castiel.

"Are you alright?" Balthazar whispered.

Eliyon sagged, wanted the ground to swallow him too.

 _I woke up Castiel_ and _Balthazar. I'm not a babe! I shouldn't be having bad dreams!_

"Eliyon!" Balthazar hissed to get his attention. "Are you alright?"

Eliyon nodded, unwilling to admit to anything else and sat up, tucking his knees under his chin.

"Sorry I woke you," he said softly.

"Better us than Esme," Balthazar said disparagingly. "She'd sing you a lullaby."

Eliyon shrugged. A lullaby didn't sound like a bad thing, at the moment.

Balthazar looked at him for a moment. "Do…you want me to get Esme?" he asked worriedly.

Eliyon shook his head. "I'm alright," he lied. He wanted to cry. He wanted Gabriel. He wanted everything to be just a bad dream.

"The last time I had a bad dream," Castiel began, "it was about Heaven's dungeon. I'd been bad and they locked me up."

Balthazar scoffed. "Heaven doesn't have a dungeon. That's just a story the Caretakers tell us so that we don't misbehave."

"I don't think so," Castiel said slowly.

"He may be right," Eliyon said. "After all, he tried to turn Michael's wings blue and he didn't get thrown into a dungeon."

Balthazar spread his hands. "See? There's no dungeon." Then, when Castiel still gave him a doubtful frown, he said, "I'll prove it."

Eliyon looked up in alarm. "What do you mean?"

"I'll prove there's no dungeon," Balthazar repeated.

"You can't leave!" Eliyon whispered harshly as Balthazar walked away. "Not by yourself!"

His friend turned and gave him an exaggerated shrug and kept walking.

Eliyon and Castiel exchanged a worried look, then hurried to catch up. They wouldn't be able to change his mind but they weren't going to let him go alone.

* * *

"This place is huge!" Balthazar whispered hoarsely, staring up at the vaulted ceiling.

Eliyon and Castiel turned a nervous circle together, expecting to be caught any second. They had flown to the Citadel, which was the most likely place to find a dungeon in Balthazar's opinion. First, they found the weapon's room and were disappointed to find it mostly empty, aside from a few swords and spears. Then, as they started to leave, they found a staircase that plunged deep into the floor. They followed a guard down until they came to a massive set of doors. Balthazar barely hesitated before he slipped through after the guard and the others followed him reluctantly.

"I told you there was a dungeon," Castiel hissed.

"You don't know that this is a dungeon," Balthazar retorted. "Let's make sure." He dashed down a nearby corridor with disturbing eagerness.

They followed a little more slowly but still almost ran into him in the dim light. Balthazar stood staring open-mouthed at what could only be a cell. An empty cell, but a cell nonetheless.

"So…there really is a dungeon," he said softly.

Suddenly, footsteps rang through the hall and for a moment, they froze in panic. Then, they scattered, desperate to find a hiding place. Eliyon found himself in another hall lined with dozens of cells.

 _Why does Heaven have a dungeon? Why are there so many cells? We're not all bad, just Lucifer…_

He suddenly felt something faint press against his Grace and he followed it cautiously. He stopped in front of a cell and peered inside, feeling a pain emanating from within that so deep and…so familiar.

He could just make out a form huddled in the farthest corner. "Gadreel?"

The form shifted slightly at the whispered call. "What are you doing here, little one?" the Sentry's deep voice was weak and hoarse.

"Why are _you_ here?" Eliyon asked in return, horrified. "What happened?" He could hear the Sentry's labored breathing and he still hadn't moved.

"Please, little one, please leave," Gadreel begged brokenly.

Eliyon knelt in front of the bars. The Sentry was in pain and he hadn't been hurt when Eliyon had seen him in the Mercy Room.

"Gadreel, what happened to you?" he asked again.

Gadreel sighed wearily and Eliyon could feel his pain and fear resonating within his own Grace. He remembered feeling the same when he was lying in the garden before Gabriel found him and he reached out to the Sentry's Grace.

Something blocked him.

"Gadreel, I can't reach you."

The Sentry finally stirred at that. "They bound me," he said.

"What do you mean?"

Gadreel began moving, _dragging_ himself, toward the cell door. Eliyon's eyes widened in horror. The Sentry had been beaten brutally. His face was bloody and bruised, his skin was pale and both of his legs were broken horribly. His chest and back was flayed and silver leaked from his every wound. His wings…his four, strong, slate-blue and black wings were bloody, large gaps of feathers were missing and the bones were snapped in several places.

Tears welled in Eliyon's eyes and he reached through the bars, stretching his hand out to the Sentry.

Gadreel watched the horror fill Eliyon's eyes and felt his bound Grace recoil in shame. This had to be some plot of Thaddeus'. His one thought of comfort was that at least the Fledglings would not remember him. His name, which was a curse on his brethren's tongues, would only be a lesson to the youngest of them. To them, he would be nothing but an abstract, a concept. Now, even that was taken from him, it seemed.

Then, when Eliyon reached through the bars, his heart clenched and he dragged himself closer so he could grasp the Fledgling's hand. The contact was sweeter than any relief he could have imagined and more than he would have ever dared to hope for. He sighed and propped his head against the cold bars, relishing the chill against his hot skin.

"Can I help you?" Eliyon asked.

Gadreel shook his head and shifted so Eliyon could see the sigil carved into his chest. "I will have to heal on my own," he said. "Not even the Rit Zien could help me, little one."

"I'll tell Michael," Eliyon promised. "He will—"

"Michael knows," Gadreel said heavily. "He knows."

Eliyon suddenly understood and he pressed against the bars. "But you haven't done anything wrong!"

"I betrayed Heaven."

"No, that was Lucifer!"

Gadreel hadn't corrupted the Humans. He hadn't ripped Michael's wings apart.

"I let the Serpent in," Gadreel said softly.

"Is there anything I can do?" Eliyon pled.

Gadreel looked down at their clasped hands. "You've already done so much for me, little one. But…if I could make two requests of you…"

"Anything!" Eliyon said immediately.

Gadreel almost smiled at the innocence and trust in the Fledgling's reply. He gripped a bar with his free hand and Eliyon could see the muscles flex as he pulled himself up to a sitting position.

"My name is a curse among our brethren," he said. "As it should be…but, may I ask…will you remember me as I once was?"

Eliyon nodded. Of course he would always remember Gadreel as a warrior of Heaven, a warrior who grieved over his mistake—

Gadreel reached out and grasped the side of Eliyon's face. Eliyon gasped at the memories that poured into his mind.

 _—The Darkness surrounded all of Creation and Father stood before it, denying it victory while the Archangels drove it back and Gadreel stood between Father and danger, a living shield—_

 _—He sparred with Michael and Lucifer, laughed with Gabriel and sat with Raphael in quiet contemplation—_

 _—The Leviathans devoured everything in their path, determined to wreak as much destruction as possible before the Archangels locked them away. They reached the gate of Eden, still being formed by Father's hand, and went no farther, driven back by the Sentry's flashing blade and impenetrable Grace—_

Gadreel released him and Eliyon looked at him, tears streaming down his cheeks.

 _All of that, all of that forgotten with one mistake…_

"What's the second thing?" Eliyon asked shakily.

Gadreel pulled himself up farther. "Leave this place, little one. Leave and never return. Never speak of it."

Eliyon nodded reluctantly.

"I want your word," Gadreel's voice was desperate.

Eliyon nodded more firmly this time.

Footsteps rang through the corridor and Gadreel's eyes snapped up fearfully. "Go, little one. Go now, before he finds you!"

Eliyon dashed away but hid in a dark corner, unwilling to leave Gadreel in this horrible place.

"Who are we talking to, Gadreel?" the guard asked, his tone dark and cheerful.

"No one, Thaddeus," Gadreel replied, shrinking back from the bars.

Eliyon's Grace flared with anger at the sight of Gadreel cowering before this guard…Thaddeus.

"You're lying to me, Gadreel," Thaddeus purred. "I thought we had discussed this."

"We did," Gadreel choked.

"How did you get over here? You shouldn't have been able to move." A heavy pause, then, "Your Grace recovered. You're healing too quickly."

The door swung open and Gadreel cowered against the wall.

"I guess I'll have to carve that sigil a little deeper."

"No—no, Thaddeus," Gadreel begged, holding up a hand in a desperate attempt to ward him away. "No!" Thaddeus raised his blade tauntingly—" _No!_ "—and brought it down. Gadreel's scream of pain echoed down the corridor.

Eliyon stood frozen with horror in his hiding place, listening to Gadreel's cries and the horrific sound of slicing flesh while Thaddeus carved into him. Silver pooled on the floor and trickled beneath bars and a particularly wild swing splashed it over Eliyon's face. Suddenly, all he could see was his nightmare, Lucifer standing over the Archangels, silver staining his hands—

" _Get away from him!_ " he shrieked and his Grace cracked like thunder. The shockwave slammed into Thaddeus and drove him to the floor with a surprised cry of pain and the guard looked up in fear, expecting to see Michael standing in the hall.

At least he wasn't hurting Gadreel anymore.

Eliyon was about to dive into the cell to protect the Sentry when something crashed into his side, knocking him back.

"We have to go now!" Castiel hissed, but his eyes were wide with horror and Eliyon knew he'd been watching Thaddeus torture Gadreel. He dragged Eliyon down the hall and didn't stop until they met Balthazar at the door.

The sand-winged Fledgling was trembling. "Let's…not tell anyone we found this place."

Castiel nodded vehemently and dragged them both outside. The cool, night air wafted through their feathers and they sighed in relief.

Eliyon's Grace shook with anger and grief. This was Lucifer's fault and Gadreel was being tortured for it.

 _Michael knows. Michael ordered this._

He found one more memory that Gadreel had given him, possibly by accident.

 _—Lucifer came to Eden, wanting to learn more about the Humans, wanting to understand—_

 _Michael ordered this. Not Father. Father wouldn't have punished Gadreel for something that wasn't his fault. Father isn't angry with Gadreel._

 _He told me so._

* * *

I feel like I should apologize for taking you from fluff to angst so abruptly...

I kinda see Balthazar as the 'cool kid'. You know, the one that thinks he's too old to play with the kids but still answers the banana phone and secretly likes making them laugh.

I had to make some minor grammar corrections and realized *gasp* that I had passed up a wonderful opportunity to give Gadreel more details. I gave him four wings because, it seems to me that in order to be God's most trusted Angel and the one put in charge of protecting the very first humans, he would have to be one BMJ (Bad Mamma Jamma). Almost on the level of the Archangels, really. So, he has four wings instead of the usual two or the more prestigious six. For interested parties ;) I will be giving Gadreel a fic of his own. But fair warning, don't look for it yet. It's not only a work in progress, but it's part of a series I'm doing.

Psst, you're actually reading the start of that series :) it's kinda like a prequel. Not telling you anymore ;)


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Hihi! Still dealing with aftermath, just expect that from here on out, ok? That way, I stay safe and you...will still be dealing with a combo of fluff and angst? Sorry, not much of a consolation.

Shoutouts to: monkeygirl77, Kathy, Spyrofury767, Diane279, Krislyngera, PrincessMagic and 1Corinthians 1313! Thanks so much for reviewing! I know that chapter was a little rough but I'm not gonna lie...the rest probably won't be much better.

For anybody who's curious, I went back and threw in a little more description for Gadreel. I realized I'd passed up a perfect opportunity to give our beloved Sentry his wings, so I did...in a way.

Enjoy!

* * *

Samandriel shifted in his nest, again. The babe was fighting hard to stay awake but at the same time was more than happy to let Eliyon rub between his wings, which was what was making him so sleepy. Esme had put them all to bed for the night and as soon as she'd walked away, Samandriel had climbed from his nest and went in search of his new playmate. To his dismay, Eliyon left his sleeping spot only to carry him back to his nest. Then, to his delight, Eliyon stayed and told him stories about Earth and the ocean and the crabs and the wolves…

He rubbed his eyes and yawned hugely. "No s'eep," he grumped.

Eliyon smiled and stroked a downy wing with his free hand, making the feathers fluff happily and the muscles relax until both wings laid over Samandriel like a blanket.

"You don't have to sleep," he said and Samandriel pried his eyes open in sleepy surprise. "But, if you don't sleep, you'll have to wait a very long time for morning to come."

Samandriel gave him a puzzled look. "S'eep go faster?"

"Mm-hm," Eliyon nodded, raking his hand through the babe's soft hair. "Sleep makes morning come faster."

Samandriel snapped his eyes shut, lay perfectly still and promptly fell asleep. Eliyon laughed softly and headed back for his spot. He sank down onto the soft, warm grass and wrapped his wings around himself loosely. He was tired but wasn't sure he wanted to sleep himself. For the first week since his return to the garden, he had been plagued by nightmares. Now, after nearly three months, they weren't nearly as frequent. In fact, he hadn't had one at all in the past few weeks. Still, his thoughts tumbled over themselves as he tried to relax. Where was Gabriel? Was he still angry? What was happening to Gadreel? Where was Michael? Was he healed yet? Why was he letting the Sentry be hurt so badly?

 _None of this was Gadreel's fault. I wish I could get him out of the dungeon. I wish I hadn't promised I wouldn't go back._

He huffed in frustration and gazed up at the swirling stars. After a moment, he became so preoccupied with trying to follow the movements and predict a pattern that his mind fell quiet. Soon after, he fell asleep.

 _—The sky burned and lightning flashed, fracturing the very foundations of Heaven. Bodies lay everywhere, surrounded by shredded wings, feathers and silver Grace—_

 _—The grass and trees in the garden were burned black and the air was excruciatingly cold. Eliyon flew through the ruins, calling for Castiel and Balthazar, Samandriel, any of the Fledglings—_

 _—Lucifer's midnight blue wings spread to take flight and the Morningstar's rumbling chime rippled through the air as he laughed. His footprints tracked silver Grace across the frozen ground and Eliyon saw the remnants of his Flock—_

 _—Esme lay sprawled, her yellow wings horribly twisted—_

 _—Castiel's and Balthazar's broken bodies lay in pool of Grace, each of his friends missing a wing because he knew,_ he knew _, they had fought together—_

 _—The nests were in pieces, soft down covered the ground like snow and Eliyon saw a flash of color…a small scattering of bright orange and yellow feathers—_

Eliyon shot upright, a scream lodged in his throat. He clawed his way to his knees and took flight, vanishing in a blink. He crashed to a stop inside a small grove of trees and bit down hard on his fist to muffle his screams while his other hand gripped the ground, digging furrows in the dirt in an effort to stop the earth from pitching beneath him.

He couldn't breathe and in his mind, unable to completely escape the nightmare, he could still hear Lucifer's rumbling laughter.

 _He's going to kill Castiel and Balthazar! Samandriel! What am I supposed to do?!_

His Grace flared bright with terror.

 _"Gabriel!"_

* * *

The air in his aerie was comfortably warm and after laying awake for hours, tossing and turning restlessly, Gabriel had finally fallen asleep.

 _"Gabriel!"_

The terrified cry slammed into his Grace and he fell out of bed in his haste to untangle himself from the sheets. He dove out of the window and his wings surged with a faint crack of thunder as he flew for the garden.

He'd know that Grace anywhere.

He plummeted through the wards, ignoring the sharp stabs that raked across his body and wings and landed, spreading his Grace wide open, looking for his Fledgling.

He couldn't find him. Eliyon had cut him off from his Grace the day he ran and he hadn't opened the connection again.

 _How scared is he that he'd do it by accident?_

Fear settled in Gabriel's core and he reached farther.

 _"Eliyon? Where are you, kiddo?"_

Nothing answered him.

"I can't find him, Castiel."

Gabriel glided toward Balthazar's worried voice but stopped just out of sight. The Fledglings were speaking in harsh whispers but he could hear them well enough.

"I can't either," Castiel replied worriedly. "Where did he go?"

"If we knew, we wouldn't be looking for him," Balthazar retorted. "I can't even feel his Grace."

Gabriel withdrew thoughtfully. Eliyon wouldn't have cut himself off from the two Fledglings, so why couldn't they find him? Then, realization dawned. They didn't know _he_ was in the garden, either, and he certainly wasn't hiding.

 _Maybe it isn't that he's cut off from them…_

He remembered the night he'd prodded Eliyon's Grace too much and the Fledgling had flared on him. No normal Angel could actually hurt him and certainly not a Fledgling.

 _But he did…_

 _What if…?_

Gabriel stopped his desperate searching and just let his Grace open, forcing himself to relax. Almost immediately, he felt himself brushing against something almost as vast as himself and his first thought was to reach out to Michael and see if his brother was in the garden, too.

He stopped himself just in time. If Michael was in the garden, he would have made his presence known when Gabriel careened through the wards.

 _And the last thing I need is for him to find out I'm in the garden when he told me to stay away._

Castiel and Balthazar knew Eliyon was in the garden, just like they would know when an Archangel was nearby. However, they wouldn't be able to sense exactly where the Archangel was because they couldn't truly grasp something that enormous. Eliyon's Grace was spread all over the garden and Gabriel could actually feel the air shifting.

He started flying, following the potency of the Grace and the farther away from the Flock he went, the more puzzled he became. Only seconds had passed since Eliyon's cry for help and Gabriel's arrival in the garden. How far could he have gone?

He came to a small grove about ten Earth miles away and saw the snapped branches of nearby bushes. Then, in the stillness, he heard a quiet sob. He stepped through the trees and found Eliyon huddled in a ball, his entire being trembling uncontrollably.

The sight pierced Gabriel through the heart. "Eliyon?" he reached out without thinking and touched the Fledgling's shoulder.

Eliyon shrieked in terror, his chime echoing throughout the garden and he scrambled back from Gabriel, his eyes wide, yet vague.

"NONONONO!" his wings beat the air frantically. "CASTIEL! BALTHAZAR!"

Gabriel dove forward and grabbed his arms. "Eliyon! It's alright! Listen to me! Everything's alright!"

Eliyon kicked out, hard. His bare feet hit Gabriel square in the chest and the Archangel lost his grip momentarily. He caught Eliyon again from behind and wrapped his arms around the Fledgling, trapping his arms and wings. Their Graces clashed as Gabriel tried to subdue him, but the struggle only lasted briefly. Eliyon sagged in Gabriel's arms and his head fell back against his shoulder and it wasn't that he'd woken up finally, it was that he'd surrendered to whatever nightmare he was trapped in.

"He's killed them all," he keened painfully. "Lucifer, he…Samandriel…he…"

"Eliyon, listen to me, kiddo," Gabriel urged in a low voice as Eliyon jerked in his arms, trying to escape his hold. "You have to wake up. Alright? It's just a nightmare. Castiel's safe. Balthazar's safe. Samandriel's in his nest dreaming about clouds and playtime. They're all safe, I promise."

Eliyon drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "Gabriel?"

"Yeah, kiddo, it's me," Gabriel assured him.

Eliyon stopped squirming. The nightmare finally faded but wakefulness brought him no comfort. He couldn't move, Gabriel's grip was unbreakable and his Grace was wrapped around him, preventing all but the tiniest movements.

"Why are you angry with me?" he whimpered. "What did I do wrong?"

Gabriel hadn't thought his heart could break anymore but hearing his Fledgling sob so brokenly was absolute torture. "I'm not angry, Eliyon. I was never angry with you. Not _you_." His throat tightened painfully and tears slid down his cheeks. "I was just angry and…and…I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, Eliyon. I swear I didn't. You didn't do anything wrong. You never did anything wrong."

Eliyon slowly relaxed and his sobs became weaker, finally softening to shaky breaths. "But…but you…"

Gabriel relaxed his grip on Eliyon and expected the Fledgling to pull away from him.

Eliyon didn't move.

"I hurt you, kiddo," Gabriel went on. "I know I did but I never meant to." He opened his Grace to Eliyon but he wasn't just asking Eliyon to connect with him. He opened himself completely, leaving himself utterly exposed to anyone and anything.

Eliyon turned to look at him, his wet, silver eyes wide with shock, then alarm. "No, Gabriel don't—don't do that!" His own Grace flared protectively, fear rippling through him.

Gabriel saw the memories of Michael's and Lucifer's battle flowing through the Fledgling's mind and his Grace opened farther as he sank down onto his heels. If all of Heaven wanted to crash down on him, he'd let it. He was too tired to care.

Then, he saw the nightmares. The horrible distortions and exaggerations that had twisted the memory into something that was somehow even more terrible…

He'd never once thought about how terrified Eliyon had been.

"Ah, kiddo," he breathed hoarsely, tears locking his throat. He looked at Eliyon helplessly and held his arms out, a pitiful offer of comfort and an even more pitiful plea for forgiveness.

The Archangel's wings were spread limply on the ground and his Grace, which normally swirled around him, playful yet powerful, was totally formless and vulnerable. His amber eyes were empty and his face was drawn with exhaustion and pain. Sitting on his knees with his arms outstretched, he looked as though he was pleading for mercy and expecting to be denied. He looked utterly broken.

Eliyon walked into Gabriel's arms and wrapped his arms around the Archangel's neck, enveloping him in his Grace, trying to offer him some tiny form of comfort, trying to protect him.

"Don't do that, kiddo," Gabriel told him, his voice a soft sob. "I don't deserve that, not from you." When Eliyon's arms tightened their hold, he began weeping in earnest. "Don't _do_ that! I don't _want_ you to forgive me! Hate me! Lash out! Do anything to me but _that_!"

Tears slid down Eliyon's face and dripped onto Gabriel's shoulder. "But I don't want to hurt you."

Gabriel gripped his arms and held him away from him. "No," he said fiercely and Eliyon's eyes widened in a mixture of shock and despair. " _I'm_ supposed to take care of you. _Not_ the other way around! And I…I can't do that!" His head dropped to his chest and his wings trembled. "I didn't check on you. Not once! I never asked if you were alright. I never thought about how scared you must have been. I never stopped to consider that you flew through the Ether by yourself. That could have killed you!"

"But it didn't," Eliyon pointed out softly.

"That's not the point!" Gabriel exclaimed. Then, he clutched Eliyon to him as though he was terrified something was going to snatch him away. "He was my best friend, Eliyon. Lucifer, he…" He froze as something soft brushed against his arms and he looked up to see Eliyon's bronze wings wrapping around him.

"Gabriel?" Eliyon queried and he heard a tremor of fear in the Fledging's voice. "I didn't think that Raphael—" he paused when he saw Gabriel's jaw clench. "I didn't mean it like that," he insisted. "I just thought that, if he could have gotten there sooner, then you and he might could have stopped Lucifer from hurting Michael so badly. I didn't think he did it on purpose."

Gabriel nodded and sniffed hard, blinking away his tears. Raphael was just as fast as Gabriel, although his usual leisurely pace led others to believe otherwise, usually to their everlasting regret. He was also stronger than Gabriel. If he had arrived before the battle was over, they could have indeed stopped Michael's wings from getting shredded.

"I know you didn't think that, kiddo," he said and sat down on the grass, pulling Eliyon into his lap. The Fledgling couldn't keep his wings around him from that position because they weren't big enough, so Gabriel wrapped them both in his. "That's just it though," Gabriel went on. "I do."


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Hihi! So, next chapter...not as rough as the ones before it, believe it or not. You might say, there's even more fluff than angst this time :)

So, I've got a headcanon about the whole true-vessels thing that I bring up in this one. Angels identify each other by Grace, that's how they recognize each other even in a vessel, right? Well, to me, it's kinda like each Grace has its own resonance, or frequency if we consider Angel Radio, and each soul has its own resonance/frequency. A true vessel is a Human whose soul's frequency matches the frequency of the Angel's Grace ^_^

Shoutouts to: parimalik, monkeygirl77, 1Corinthians 1313, Lyryenn, Diane279 and Kathy! Thanks so much for the reviews! xoxo RebeccaGuan2, I hope your exams went ok. Diane279, sorry I interrupted your homework ;) monkeygirl77, got a little more mystery for ya!

Enjoy!

* * *

Michael fought the urge to shift impatiently as Raphael examined his wings. Equally strong was the urge to bristle under his brother's scrutiny.

"They are healed," Raphael pronounced, at last and stepped back. "I am glad to see how quickly you have recovered."

Michael grunted in reply.

 _I'm sure you are, Brother. Wouldn't want to learn you'd supported the wrong elder, now would you?_

He flapped experimentally. The muscles were cramped from lack of use and he grimaced as they pinched painfully.

"Be careful," Raphael scolded.

Michael shot him a warning glare. "I'm fine."

"Of course," Raphael conceded after a tense moment of silence and strode from the aerie.

Michael snarled at his back and opened his wings as far as he could. He hissed as his freshly healed wings burned under the stretch, and then he let them fall so that they hung down his back like a cape. The freedom was refreshing and his feathers fluffed in relief.

He stepped out and took flight, setting an easy pace for himself, feeling each bend and stretch. He sighed in relief when his freshly healed wings fell in perfect sync with the others. After a brief moment of discomfort, the muscles eased and the movements became more powerful. He soared to the edge of Heaven and landed, casting a sharp glance over the Angels at work.

The frame of the Cage was complete and work had begun on the walls. Thousands of Angels were at the forges, assisting the smiths with this monumental task. Thousands of others were creating the seals that would lock the Cage, six hundred to be precise. Once inside, the Morningstar would never break free.

Michael intended to make certain of that.

He flew back to his aerie, sealed it with a pulse of Grace and strode to the large chest on the opposite side of the room. Plunging his hand beneath the clothing and other personal items it held, he withdrew a gleaming spearhead. The silver-blue tip sang softly as he pulled it free and the light glinted off the keen edges. After a score of attempts at the forge, he had finally succeeded in crafting the weapon he wanted. The wooden shaft lay with it and the unfinished sigils glowed a fierce blue at his touch. Even incomplete, the weapon hummed with dangerous power.

Michael sat cross-legged in the floor and began carving the sigils into the wood once more, fusing his Grace into every smooth, exact line.

"Father may want you in that cage, Lucifer," he spoke with soft vehemence as he continued carving the sigils, "but he never said in what condition you should enter it."

* * *

The trees rushed by him, blurred by his speed and the very air collapsed to allow him passage. Eliyon abruptly tucked his wings close and curled his knees to his chest, dropping to the ground only to launch himself back the way he came. Castiel was right behind him.

Balthazar suddenly appeared on his right and Eliyon flattened his wings to his back. His friend sailed over him, his hand just missing Eliyon's shirt. Eliyon opened his wings once more and surged forward, the stones marking the finish line coming in sight. He landed all at once, his feet digging furrows in the ground and Castiel landed right beside him a second later. The black-winged Fledgling's eyes were bright and his chest was heaving from the exertion.

"I…utterly…despise…you both…right now," Balthazar staggered to a stop and folded double, clutching his middle as he struggled to breathe.

"Are you alright?" Eliyon asked in concern.

"Oh, don't pretend like you care!" Balthazar wheezed and dropped to the grass. "You aren't even tired!"

Castiel looked at Eliyon and his eyes widened. His friend was barely ruffled by their race. Then, he looked back at Balthazar. "Why are _you_ so out of breath?"

Gabriel stood leaned against a tree, laughing quietly at the argument that followed Castiel's question. Balthazar's wings flared indignantly and Eliyon stepped between his friends to mediate the dispute.

The giant redwoods surrounded them—giant by Earth standards, that is—and the air was crisp. The Fledglings would be leaving their Caretakers soon and be put in one of the barracks to begin their training as warriors. As a special treat, Gabriel decided to take the trio to Earth one last time before they were no longer Fledglings. They'd seen the ocean, the desert and Eliyon's personal favorite, the forest. Now, it was time for the educational part of the trip.

"Hey, kiddos!" Gabriel called. "Time to move on!"

"Coming!" Eliyon replied and started walking toward the Archangel. Castiel shot him a curious look but Gabriel saw the gratitude in Balthazar's eyes. Just because the Fledgling was sneakiest, it didn't mean he was the fittest.

"Where are we going?" Castiel asked.

"Got something for you to see," Gabriel told them. "You alright?" he asked Balthazar.

Balthazar nodded and tried to school his features into an expression of nonchalance.

Gabriel's mouth quirked into a knowing smile and he took them out of the forest. They still were getting better at flying in the Ether but they still kept a tight grip on him. The ocean flew by beneath them and he stopped on a rock ledge. A small city spread out before them and the resonance of a thousand souls sang against their Graces.

"There are so many of them!" Eliyon exclaimed and Gabriel looked at him a little guiltily. The last time Eliyon had been to Earth, he'd watched the first two Humans leave Eden. Everything that happened after that was something he'd rather forget.

"Are these, Humans?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah, these are Humans," Gabriel answered. "Come on, we'll get a closer look. They can't see us."

They landed in the center of the city. The Humans crowded together in the space, looking at various items sitting on the tables.

"Why can't they see us?" Castiel asked with a thoughtful frown.

"Well, it would kill them if they did," Gabriel replied. "We're beings of divine power," he elaborated when he saw the Fledgling's horrified expression. "We may be solid to each other, but if we cross to the physical plane, we're nothing but Grace and power."

"So, we can't cross over?" Castiel asked disappointedly.

"We can, we just have to have a vessel," Gabriel told him. "A Human has to carry us."

Castiel was staring hard at Gabriel, then back at the Humans, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Alright, it's like this," Gabriel knelt beside him. "You see that light glowing in them? That's their soul. Angels have Grace, Humans have souls. That soul has to have a body. Now, when they die, their bodies stay here and their souls go to Heaven."

 _Or Hell._

"For us, it's kind of the opposite. We can't really exist in this place without a physical body. But, we leave our bodies behind in Heaven and exist only as Grace on Earth."

Castiel's eyes widened with sudden comprehension. "Oh! How do we know which ones can carry us?"

"Well, they all can," Gabriel began, "but there are certain ones that are actually supposed to. They're stronger, so they can handle the strain easier. Do you feel that?" He opened his Grace slightly and the Fledglings followed his example. He chuckled at their startled expressions when they felt the resonance of the souls. Eliyon, on the other hand, didn't seemed surprised at all.

 _Right, he encountered the first two. Souls are nothing new to him._

"Can they connect with each other like we do?" Castiel asked.

Balthazar was scuffing his foot against the ground, trying and failing to appear uninterested. Eliyon wandered a few steps away, watching a little boy in a red robe that crept away from his mother every time she turned her back.

"No, but they can talk to us," Gabriel replied. "A Human that's your true vessel will be able to talk to you."

"How do we know it it's a true vessel?" Balthazar asked.

Gabriel didn't answer immediately and paid close attention to the three Fledglings.

 _Wait for it…_

"Hey, I found one that's…different," Castiel announced, puzzled.

"Different how?" Gabriel asked with a knowing grin.

"I don't know," Castiel cocked his head to one side, trying to find this perplexing Human in the crowd. "It…feels…like me."

Gabriel nodded. "That soul's resonance matches the resonance of your Grace. Congratulations, kiddo! You just found a true vessel!"

Castiel's blue eyes practically glowed with excitement.

"I think I found one too," Balthazar said thoughtfully.

Suddenly, the crowd began to shift nervously and a few people began to panic as a group of men on horses came galloping into the market. A little boy stood in their path and though his red clothing made him easy to see, the men paid no attention and the horses were coming too quickly for him to move.

"NO!" a woman shrieked and dove away from the vendor's stall, her arms fully outstretched and too far from her son to save him.

Eliyon slammed into the boy, knocking him to the other side of the street with teeth rattling force. As the boy lay there gasping breath, Eliyon looked back to see Gabriel, Castiel and Balthazar staring at him in shock and, in Castiel's case, horror.

"Eliyon! You don't have a vessel!" he cried.

"What happened to his wings?!" Balthazar demanded, paling at the sight, or lack thereof.

Gabriel never looked away from his Fledgling, almost as though he was afraid Eliyon would vanish if he so much as blinked.

Eliyon turned back to the boy, who was now crying. "Are you alright?"

The boy nodded but didn't get the chance to reply before his mother appeared and smothered him in an overjoyed embrace. Eliyon took advantage of the distraction and stepped back into the Ether. His wings shimmered and reappeared and Balthazar instantly grabbed them, moving them this way and that, poking the feathers and bending the joints.

"Stop that!" Eliyon cried in exasperation, pulling his wings away.

"Where'd they go?" Balthazar asked fearfully. "When you crossed over, where were they?"

"They were still there," Eliyon told him.

"I couldn't see them!" Balthazar insisted. "So, where were they?"

"They were still there," Gabriel assured them.

Balthazar looked up at him apprehensively, then nodded, simply trusting that Gabriel had seen them when he couldn't. The thought that Gabriel wouldn't know something never crossed his mind. His trust in the Archangel's absoluteness was so complete, he missed the baffled look on Gabriel's face as he studied Eliyon's wings, as well as the way he brushed his hand along the tip of one to reassure _himself_ that they were there and intact.

"Well, that's enough adventure for one day," he said, forcing a lightness in his tone that he didn't really feel. "Let's go home."

Eliyon nodded and Castiel and Balthazar were too shaken to protest the way they normally would have. Gabriel took hold of them and flew back to Heaven.

"I'll see you tonight, kiddo," he promised Eliyon.

Eliyon nodded gratefully but without the excitement he'd once displayed where Gabriel was concerned. Gabriel knew he had no one to blame but himself, after he'd flared on the Fledgling, he felt lucky that Eliyon even wanted to be around him. Ever since that night Eliyon had called out from his nightmare, the rift between them had been mending slowly. Their Graces were connected once again, but Gabriel could tell that it wasn't complete on Eliyon's part, that he was keeping part of himself held back where before, he'd been completely open and…vulnerable.

 _He's growing up. I broke that trust and made him grow up._

Still, after that night, Gabriel had started taking Eliyon back his aerie to sleep and returning him to the garden in the morning. Michael didn't know, of course, but it wasn't like Gabriel was _actually_ breaking his word. He _was_ leaving Eliyon in the garden with the other Fledglings, after all.

"Gabriel?" Eliyon called as the Archangel turned to leave.

"Yeah, kiddo?" He hated hearing the hesitancy in the Fledgling's voice.

"When we were on Earth," Eliyon began, "and Castiel and Balthazar found their true vessels…"

"Yeah?" Gabriel prompted when Eliyon didn't finish.

"I couldn't find mine."

Gabriel's heart lurched at the despondency in Eliyon's voice. "They're probably in a different area, kiddo. Next time we go, we'll look around, alright?"

Eliyon nodded eagerly and even managed a small smile, though he knew it'd be pointless. When his friends found their vessels in the town and he didn't, he'd stretched his Grace throughout the Ether, searching out all the souls that were on Earth now. While there weren't that many, considering how large Earth was, there was still a lot, thousands of them and none of them had resonated back to him.

He hadn't found his vessel, because he didn't have one.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Hihi! I'm still alive! How about that? So, we've got some fluff and more angst. Hey, you know that's how I do ;) You'll see some familiar faces here and some will be in unfamiliar places because I have another headcanon about the Princes of Hell that I'm not gonna discuss here. Not spoiling!

Shoutouts to: 1Corinthians 1313/Itsa-me-Mario, Spyrofury767, Diane279, Lyryrenn, monkeygirl77, and Kathy! Thanks so much for reviewing! Unfortunately, you're not getting many answers as far as Eliyon's vessel situation, yet. Just be patient :)

Diane279, never fear! I will never abandon a fic! My updates do get delayed because my life is nuts, but i will always update! And fair-warning, you probably won't read anything of mine that isn't angsty lol

Monkeygirl77, your revenge was effective lol I shall have to retaliate with equal effectiveness ;)

I hope my US readers had a good Thanksgiving!

Enjoy!

A/N: EEP! That chapter was a mess of errors and page breaks Iamsosorry!

* * *

A chill wafted against Michael's Grace and he dove out of his bed, drawing his blade and brandishing it in the dim light. His wings flared high as he pulsed his Grace, looking for his enemy.

"Lucifer," his voice was soft, hesitant to speak the name lest he summon his brother to his aerie.

He was alone. However, he shivered from the cold lingering on his Grace.

Lucifer was free.

Michael's first instinct was to call for Raphael and Gabriel but he stifled the reaction quickly. Gabriel would never fight by his side against Lucifer and Raphael…

Michael nearly scoffed at the thought.

After a thousand years, his fallen brother had finally freed himself from Hell. And yet, he found himself wondering if this was actually true. Lucifer was nothing if not cunning. The last thing he would do would be to send his Grace pulsing across Michael's if he wasn't ready for a confrontation. If he was ready for a confrontation, then he had been freed for some time now.

"So, if you have _been_ free, what have you been doing?" Michael mused aloud.

He left his aerie and flew for Father's garden. The last time he'd spoken to Father face-to-face had been during the war with the Darkness and a nervous tremor skated across his feathers at his boldness.

The garden was lush and alive in every sense of the word and shifted its appearance through the force of a mere thought. However, whenever Michael entered it, it retained its original appearance and he was glad for that one constant in his existence. He instantly felt more at ease as he walked between the enormous trees with the mist settling on his wings. He caught the edge of a quiet Grace and strode toward it.

"Joshua."

The Gardener looked up from the flowering shrub he was tending and his expression was one of dismay. "He isn't here, Michael."

"Lucifer is free from Hell and the Cage is not yet complete," Michael told him. "I need to know what He would have me do."

Joshua stood wearily. "Michael, He isn't here."

The words finally registered. "What do you mean? Of course, He's here."

Joshua sighed. "I wish that were so."

Fear bloomed in Michael's core and settled like a stone. His wings began burning along the scars Lucifer left him with. "Where is He?"

"I don't know," Joshua's tone was grieved. "He didn't tell me where he was going."

"You're saying, He's left the _garden_ ," Michael insisted.

Joshua shook his head. "No, Michael—"

" _No!_ " Michael's Grace flared, bending the trees over nearly to the ground. "He isn't—He wouldn't!"

"He did," Joshua said sadly.

Michael felt the ground tip beneath his feet. "He's gone?"

Joshua nodded slowly.

"Did—did He say anything? Did He leave instructions for me?" Michael was nearly begging now.

Joshua shook his head. "No."

"What am I supposed to do?" Michael asked in a lost tone.

"I don't know that, either," Joshua told him.

Michael turned and walked away, listening to the sound of Joshua's shears as he snipped the buds. Then, the sound faded and he was nowhere near the entrance. His legs suddenly gave way beneath him and he sank to his knees in the grass. His wings fell quivering to his sides and his hands were shaking uncontrollably.

 _"What am I supposed to do?"_ he asked, pushing his Grace throughout the whole of existence, desperate to find his Father. _"What am I supposed to do?!"_

* * *

Eliyon sat behind the altar in the Mercy Room, concealed in its shadow. Of course, hiding wasn't really necessary. No one seemed to come in here anymore.

 _"I don't understand. Why don't I have a vessel?"_ He felt tears pricking his eyes and he blinked them away in frustration. _"Is it because of my Grace?"_

 _"Yes, Eliyon,"_ Father replied patiently, _"it is."_

Eliyon's wings drooped despondently, remembering each cruel taunt Zachariah had thrown at him as he pulled out feathers.

 _Your existence is testament to Father's pity. Look at you. You barely have any Grace. You can't fly. You'll_ never _fly, not with wings like that. Your feathers aren't even growing right. You're barely an Angel. You might as well be a Human._

Eliyon pulled one wing around and ran his finger along the serrated edge of his feathers. He remembered when his flight feathers started growing in the first time. Zachariah had taken great pleasure in plucking those.

 _"Am I broken?"_

A gentle warmth suddenly infused his Grace and he sighed, sagging back against the golden altar.

 _"Eliyon, child, you're not broken,"_ Father assured him. _"You are exactly as I meant for you to be."_

 _"You meant for me to be weak?"_ Eliyon said with a touch of bitterness.

The warmth intensified until it felt like a tight embrace, like being wrapped up in all six of Gabriel's wings.

 _"Why do you think you are weak?"_

 _"Gabriel said that…the others are like flames, and I'm more like a coal."_

 _"And a coal is weaker than a flame, is it?"_

Eliyon cocked his head in confusion. Father sounded…amused. _"A coal isn't even fire."_

 _"No?"_

 _"No, it…"_ Eliyon's Grace lurched within him and tears slid down his cheeks as he hugged his knees to his chest. _"Why'd you make me different? Why didn't you make me like everyone else?"_

If he hadn't been different, he wouldn't have been hurt by Lucifer's Grace that day and Gabriel wouldn't have found him. If Gabriel never found him, then he wouldn't have become his Caretaker and he wouldn't have been teaching him to fly on the plateau. If Gabriel hadn't been on the plateau, he could have reached Michael sooner and stopped him from getting so horribly hurt.

 _"Do you truly wish to have never met Gabriel?"_

Eliyon shook his head miserably. _"No."_

 _"If you were just like everyone else, what would have drawn the two of you together? Do you truly want to go back and undo your friendship with Gabriel?"_

For a moment, Eliyon wondered if Father wasn't just asking for the sake of asking and was actually giving him a choice.

 _"No,"_ he said despairingly. _"I just…I don't understand."_

 _"He was grieving, angry and afraid,"_ Father explained. _"He loves you, child. From the beginning, all he has wanted is to take care of you."_

Eliyon sighed. _"I know, it's just…"_

 _"It is difficult to overcome fear,"_ Father told him gently.

Eliyon nodded and his throat clenched painfully. He still found himself nervous around Gabriel, even after the Archangel had saved him from his nightmare, after he'd stayed in the garden for the rest of the night with Eliyon wrapped in his wings so he could sleep. Gabriel kept him in his aerie at night now and when he did have a nightmare, the Archangel was quick to wake him up before it became too horrible.

 _"What would you prefer to be?"_

Eliyon startled a bit at the question. _"What do you mean?"_

 _"You dislike how I made you,"_ Father elaborated. _"What would you prefer to be?"_

Eliyon opened his mouth, yet had no answer to give. _"I don't dislike what I am,"_ he said at last. _"I just don't like that I'm different."_

 _"Beloved child, what you_ are _, is different,"_ Father replied warmly and fell silent.

Eliyon sighed and wiped his eyes, slowly getting to his feet. He turned to leave but his gaze was drawn to the air twisting in the altar's heat and the mesmerizing patterns held his attention. He gripped the golden rim and stood on the very tips of his toes, trying to see the coals within, trying to see _himself_. The heat drew him closer and he started to raise a hand and try to capture the shimmering air.

"Careful, little one," a deep voice admonished. "The fire is unforgiving."

Eliyon froze and looked up to see an Angel watching him with serious, dark eyes.

"But it isn't fire," he replied morosely. "It's just coals."

The Angel's wings flared slightly and Eliyon cringed, preparing for a harsh reprimand.

"Why do you say that?"

Eliyon glanced up at him, surprised by the gentle inquiry. The Angel's Grace brushed his, seeking an invitation and Eliyon's responded hesitantly, bracing himself for pain. The Angel's Grace was strong, a warrior's Grace, but he kept the connection courteously light.

"Ah, so you're the one Gabriel took charge of," he said with a comprehending lift of his head.

Eliyon's chin dropped to his chest and he scuffed his shoe against the floor.

"Forgive me," the Angel dropped to a knee and pressed a hand to his chest. "I am Ezekiel."

"I'm Eliyon," Eliyon spoke his name clearly, but there was no hiding the heaviness in his tone.

Ezekiel cocked his head curiously. "Perhaps, it isn't the coals you doubt," he remarked quietly, finally getting a sense of Eliyon's Grace.

Eliyon's wings drooped and tears stung his eyes. "We're supposed to be assigned to a garrison soon," he said. "But…my Grace…I don't even have a vessel because it's so weak."

Ezekiel's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Weak, you say? That is not what _I_ have heard."

Eliyon looked up. "What do you mean?"

"You flew the Ether alone," Ezekiel said, "with an injury, no less. You're the fastest Fledgling yet seen, and one of the bravest. Those do not seem like traits of weakness to me."

Eliyon blinked dumbly.

"Gabriel speaks of you often," Ezekiel smiled warmly. "He is very fond of you. As is Michael, and that is not something easily secured. Especially now." He gripped Eliyon's shoulder as the Fledgling's dull gaze dropped to the floor. "Come, let's return you to your Flock."

Ezekiel led him outside and the edges of his feathers shimmered with silver in the sunlight, making the simple brown wings seem regal.

"Why were you in the Mercy Room?" Eliyon asked suddenly.

Ezekiel's shoulders rose and fell in a small sigh. "I go there often to reflect. Father retreated to His garden long ago, but I still feel His presence in the Citadel. Why were you there?"

"To ask Father why He made me different."

"Did He tell you?"

Eliyon sighed heavily. "No."

They paused in the courtyard and the voices of the choir resonated above them. Ezekiel sighed.

"I remember when Lucifer led them," he said. "Ah, that was something to hear."

"You remember?" Eliyon asked in surprise.

"I do. I remember them all as they once were," Ezekiel replied. "The Archangels, even Gadreel."

"Do not speak the traitor's name," another Angel growled, striding into view. His pale eyes flashed angrily and he wore the insignia of a garrison captain on his shoulder.

Eliyon's wings flared angrily.

 _Gadreel isn't a traitor!_

"I do not speak of a traitor," Ezekiel replied coolly. "I speak of a great Angel that once fought shoulder to shoulder with the Archangels and our Father. The young ones should know our histories, even when they end in tragedy, Ishim."

Ishim snorted and turned his glare on Eliyon. "Lower those wings, Fledgling."

Ezekiel stepped forward and pulled Eliyon back against him. Even though his wings remained still, he suddenly exuded a quiet danger.

"Leave the little one be, Ishim," he said. "He is no concern of yours."

Ishim fixed him with a cool look. "Your allowance of undisciplined behavior grows increasingly worrisome, Ezekiel. Should it continue, Michael may decide to remove you from your position."

Ezekiel lifted his chin. "When Michael becomes concerned with my methods, I shall re-evaluate them."

Ishim inclined his head. "I was merely expressing a concern, Ezekiel. I don't want to see you replaced."

"I appreciate your concern, Ishim," Ezekiel replied evenly. He led Eliyon away without another word. "Mind yourself, child," he admonished quietly. "We all have strong feelings regarding Gadreel and his crimes, but it does little good to speak of them."

"He didn't do anything wrong," Eliyon insisted.

Ezekiel sighed. "I would like to think so. However, the evidence remains." He paused outside the entrance to the Fledglings' garden. "You will leave this place before much more time passes."

Eliyon nodded, scuffing the ground with his toes.

"Does that frighten you?"

"A little bit," Eliyon replied quietly. "If I knew what to expect, maybe not so much."

Ezekiel lifted his head in a comprehending nod. "Well, what will happen in the next few days is, you and the rest of your Flock will be assigned a Mentor. After some time in training, you will be assessed and assigned to a Commander accordingly."

"Oh," Eliyon said.

"I see that answer did not comfort you as it should have," Ezekiel said with a faint chuckle. "What do you truly wish to know?"

"What if…what if a Fledgling doesn't belong anywhere?" Eliyon asked apprehensively.

Ezekiel smiled. "There is always a place for us to belong. And for that, I am grateful."

The air swirled around them suddenly and the shadows of six wings fell over them.

"Hey, kiddo! I've been looking for you!" Gabriel landed and folded his wings with a flourish. "Ezekiel," he nodded a greeting.

"Gabriel," Ezekiel replied warmly. "I leave him in your capable hands."

As he flew away, Gabriel clapped a hand onto Eliyon's shoulder. "So, what do you say we head to Earth?"

Eliyon looked up at him and nodded with a slight smile. "Sure."

Gabriel grinned and they flew for the gate. Before they passed through, Gabriel stopped and took a firm hold on Eliyon. The Fledgling was strong enough to fly the Ether, but the distance from Heaven to Earth was still too far, in Gabriel's opinion.

"Hold on to me," he warned unnecessarily.

He paused at the sound of wingbeats and they turned to see Michael land behind them.

"Where are you going, Gabriel?" he asked in a low, almost warning tone.

"Earth," Gabriel told him enthusiastically. "Eliyon couldn't find his vessel before, so we're going to look again."

Michael's wings flared and he opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it. Gabriel fixed him with an obviously patient look. Eliyon could feel a strong sense of unease emanating from the eldest Archangel's Grace.

"Mind yourselves," Michael said at last and his tone wasn't that of an admonishing brother. To Eliyon, he sounded…concerned.

"Is that the same as staying out of trouble?" Gabriel asked cheekily.

Michael turned and left, not deigning to reply.

Gabriel turned back to Eliyon and grinned. "Let's go!" He wrapped his arms around his Fledgling and fell through the Ether, opening his wings just in time to keep from crashing into the ground.

Eliyon looked around curiously at the dark evergreens. "We haven't been here before."

"I know," Gabriel said. "I found this place and I thought you might like it."

"You…found…when did you leave?" Eliyon peered at him in confusion.

Gabriel shrugged as though it was a trivial thing. "A day or so ago. I wanted to see how things were progressing down here."

In truth, he'd left Heaven the day after he'd taken Eliyon, Castiel and Balthazar to Earth. He'd scoured the planet for days, looking for Eliyon's vessel, or even just the person who would be the predecessor to his vessels. He hadn't found either thing.

"Come on," he urged. "I've got lots to show you. Earth is a lot bigger than we thought. There's oceans and forests and deserts—"

"Desert?" Eliyon queried.

Gabriel grinned. "Alright, I know where we're going first."

* * *

Michael stood among the forges, absorbing the heat of the fires and the shriek of metal as it was honed. The incessant noise of the boiling ore and the hissing chill of the void melded into a solid drone of sound that was as agonizing to hear as it was comforting. At this rate, all of the Host would be armed soon and three Flocks were ready for training and assessment.

He felt a pang of grief at that thought. Never before had Fledglings been taken from their Flocks and immediately thrust into battle conditioning. However, the burn of his scars only confirmed in his mind that this was the only course of action. The Morningstar would return. The Host would have to be ready.

He left the forges and flew for the gate. The Universe stretched out before him and he watched the vast expanse warily. He expanded his Grace and could feel Gabriel's on Earth, as well as Eliyon's, and his wings relaxed a bit in relief.

 _"Really, Michael?"_ Gabriel drawled acerbically _. "Don't you have better things to do than watch my every move?"_

 _"If I wanted to watch your every move, little brother, I'd be down there with you,"_ Michael retorted coolly. He suddenly felt Gabriel start withdrawing his Grace, preparing to hide from him. _"Do_ not _do that, Gabriel,"_ Michael warned. _"I'll come down and drag you back bodily."_

Gabriel's Grace rippled in indignation and Michael almost sighed. He felt Gabriel's resignation when he didn't reply and for a moment, he worried his brother would cut himself off out of spite. After all, Michael did throw his favorite older brother into Hell.

 _"Fine,"_ Gabriel huffed. _"But it's going to be a while before we come back."_

 _"Very well,"_ Michael replied evenly. He withdrew his Grace so Gabriel wouldn't feel so invaded but not so much that he couldn't tell where he was. He relaxed his stance and his wings folded easily against his back. However, his at-ease appearance was nothing but a façade. His Grace was trembling, anticipating the familiar chill of Lucifer's presence and it required all of his self-control to not drag Gabriel back to Heaven regardless.

* * *

"Gabriel?" Eliyon queried cautiously, seeing the scowl on his face. "What's wrong?"

The Archangel looked at him in surprise. "What? Oh, nothing. It's just Michael."

"Do we need to go back?" Eliyon hoped the answer was no.

"No, he's just…I don't know what he's doing," Gabriel sighed in frustration. "Or why. I wish he'd go back to overseeing the Cage and leave me alone."

"Cage?" Eliyon gave him a startled look.

Gabriel winced at his slip. "Yeah, kiddo. Michael's going to put Lucifer into a Cage. Father's orders."

"But…Michael put Lucifer in Hell," Eliyon said in confusion. "Why does he need to build a Cage?"

"To keep Michael from killing him," Gabriel said bitterly.

Eliyon dropped his gaze to the sand. "Oh." The wind blew the dust across the arid landscape in an almost fluid manner, making it resemble rivulets of water. Nothing else moved and the silence was heavy. "Gabriel, are you alright?" he asked softly.

Gabriel opened his mouth, then paused. He wasn't about to repeat his mistake. He shook his head. "No, I'm not. I haven't been for a long time. A really long time," he added softly.

Eliyon nodded sadly as Gadreel's memories sifted into his thoughts.

 _—Lucifer showing Gabriel how to hold his wings just right to glide on the warm updrafts. Michael correcting both of their techniques—_

 _—Lucifer hiding Gabriel from Michael when a prank went too far—_

 _—Lucifer rocking Gabriel back to sleep when the fussy Fledgling Archangel awoke in the middle of the night, while Michael stood watch in the doorway, ready to help if he was needed—_

 _—Lucifer cooling Gabriel's fever after the Darkness was locked away, Michael standing guard and hiding his pain behind clenched fists and a stern expression—_

"I don't want to be in Zachariah's garrison," Eliyon said suddenly.

Gabriel looked at him surprise, then elation. He almost couldn't remember the last time Eliyon confided a fear in him. Almost.

"I don't blame you," he said. "There isn't a lot I can do about it, though. But if you do, just make sure you always pick him as your sparring partner."

Eliyon looked up with a frown, then at the sight of Gabriel's smirk, he grinned and nodded. Then, he winced.

"What's wrong?" Gabriel's voice was low with concern.

"Nothing," Eliyon assured him as Michael's prodding Grace receded. "I think Michael's worried about us being here."

Gabriel scoffed and looked away. "I'm sure he is."

Eliyon looked down sadly. Michael had always been there. He might not have been as fun to be around, but he was _always_ there, quiet and constant, urging caution and providing protection.

 _That's the Michael that found me in the garden—that healed my wing._

"Do you think he's sad?" Eliyon asked softly.

Gabriel barked a bitter laugh. "No, I don't. I think he's relieved that Lucifer's gone."

Eliyon was too ashamed to speak his next thought aloud.

 _Aren't we all, though?_

"Come on, lots more to see, kiddo," Gabriel shook off his bitter mood and they took flight once more.

* * *

Michael performed his duties from the gate, stretching his Grace throughout Heaven and overseeing the creation of the Cage and the seals. He sent several of his best Angels to Earth to look for Lucifer—

 _—I should have received a report from Azazel by now—_

-and each passing moment that he wasn't found was one of relief and concern. His three-day vigil was beginning to tax him and his wings rustled in agitation. He wanted— _needed_ —to retract his Grace and rest for a moment, but he didn't dare, not with Gabriel on Earth.

A presence pressed against his Grace and Michael looked up as the Grigori Commander approached. "What news, Tamiel?"

"All is quiet, sir," Tamiel replied with a slight bow. "If Lucifer is free, he hasn't revealed himself, yet."

Michael stifled a scoff.

 _No, he just hasn't announced himself to the Host, yet._

"I want all of your Angels on Earth," he instructed. "I want Father's creations protected from him."

"Of course," Tamiel nodded and practically vanished with a flap of his wings. All of the Grigori were proud of their speed, and Tamiel was no exception.

Michael's wings shifted restlessly, his hands clenched into fists and he was on the verge of summoning Gabriel back to Heaven when he felt his brother's Grace drawing near. His shoulders sagged in relief, though his face betrayed nothing.

Gabriel strolled up to the gate and gave Eliyon a playful push, mussing his dark hair. The Fledgling's eyes were bright with excitement and he shoved back at the Archangel. A sudden warmth blossomed in Michael's core at the sight. Gabriel had tortured himself mercilessly after he'd hurt Eliyon. The rift between them had begun mending the night Eliyon called out from his nightmare. The Fledgling was doing well, undoubtedly due to spending his nights in Gabriel's aerie where his Caretaker could wake him before a nightmare became too terrible. The memory of finding the two of them asleep in the Fledglings' garden, Eliyon wrapped in Gabriel's golden wings, brought other, bittersweet memories to Michael's mind. He hadn't been able to do anything else but turn a blind-eye to Gabriel's disobedience.

"Are every sunrise and sunset different?" Eliyon's voice carried to him.

"Every one of them," Gabriel replied warmly.

"Father certainly had an affinity for the unique," Michael interjected softly.

Eliyon nodded enthusiastically, forgetting to be nervous of the eldest Archangel and missing Gabriel's grimace. "I saw three and they were all different colors!"

"Go on and give Balthazar his surprise," Gabriel urged, trying to maintain his cheerful attitude.

Michael cocked his head suspiciously. "And what surprise is that?"

Eliyon looked up at him, suddenly remembering that Michael was frightening when he was angry, and he'd been very angry when Balthazar's attempt to summon a redbird failed.

"It's…um…I got him a—a dried rose," he said haltingly.

Michael's gaze sharpened and his eyes flicked up to meet Gabriel's. "Really."

"What?" Gabriel threw his arms open disparagingly. "It's dried, so the spell will work properly this time— _should_ work properly this time. Just stay out of the library for a while."

"Amusing," Michael's flat tone was wholly unamused.

"May…May I still give it to him?" Eliyon asked tentatively.

Michael glanced down at the earnest, nervous face before him and nodded. Eliyon took flight without another word, kicking up enough wind to make Michael turn his head away from the draft.

Gabriel's amiable expression soured into resentment. "I'm back now. Are you satisfied?"

Michael shot him a disdainful look. "Leave Eliyon in the garden tonight," he said evenly. "The Flocks will be assigned Mentors tomorrow and he shouldn't be treated any differently than the others. Having you as his Caretaker has already given him a certain prestige."

Gabriel's mouth fell open and his wings twitched in shock. "How did—You knew?"

Michael hesitated just long enough to make him nervous. "There is very little that happens that I am not aware of, Gabriel," he said and a sad smile tugged on one corner of his mouth. "Once, that was a source of comfort for you."

"A lot of things have changed," Gabriel replied shortly and braced for Michael's scathing retort, but it never came. His brother simply looked at him for a moment, a question in his eyes that never reached his mouth, so many emotions flashing across his face that it rendered his expression almost unreadable. The one thing Gabriel was certain of was that somehow, his words had stung Michael.

"You forget, Gabriel, that he was my brother, too," Michael said at last.

Gabriel almost snarled. "Yeah, he's _still_ mine."

Again, a myriad of emotions flickered through Michael's eyes but the most prominent was an odd combination of anger and resignation.

"I see," Michael nodded slowly. "At least, now I know who _not_ to call for."

Gabriel recoiled like he'd been struck. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?!"

Michael scoffed and turned away.

"Hey! What are you saying, Michael?!" Gabriel demanded.

"Spare me your indignation, Gabriel," Michael spat. "All of Heaven knows which of us you would prefer to see victorious."

Gabriel's anger left him in a rush and took the air from his lungs on the way. "Is that what you think?" he asked in horror. "That I'm…Michael, I can't pick between the two of you. You're my brothers!"

"One more so than the other," Michael stated flatly.

"That isn't true!" Gabriel insisted. "Michael, I love you both! You can't, _you can't_ , ask me to pick a side!"

"Oh, but you have chosen a side, little brother," Michael's voice dropped dangerously low. "You've made that abundantly clear." He strode back to where Gabriel stood and Gabriel fought the urge to cringe away from him. "Your neutrality is a farce," Michael bit out each word. "But if you wish to continue to indulge in this self-deception, I won't stop you."

Gabriel's muscles tensed with a sudden need to hide. Michael, already head and shoulders taller, towered over him and for a being who burned as hot as a new star, he was suddenly radiating a bitter cold.

"Your devotion is admirable," Michael went on. "But I guarantee you, he would not return or appreciate it. I would have thought that was made clear to you during our battle when you came between us." He stepped invasively close and as his wings flared, Gabriel's shrank back. "You may have dived beneath my blade, little brother, but I _never_ intended to harm you. To Lucifer, you were nothing but an obstacle, something between him and me, something he was quick to remove."

Gabriel dropped his gaze and let out a shaky breath. He remembered. He remembered it too well.

"He's still my brother," he repeated, a little more plaintively than before.

"Let him rip _your_ wings apart," Michael told him and Gabriel flinched at the venom in his tone, "and we'll see just how strong that sentiment is."

Gabriel didn't look up and his wings drooped to the ground as silent tears slid down his cheeks.

"Michael," he begged, "please. Please, don't make me choose."

Michael cocked his head, his lips pursing in disdain.

"I don't want either of you to win!" Gabriel exclaimed, finally looking up at him. "If you win, Lucifer's dead. If he wins, you're dead! What kind of choice is that?!"

Michael's wrath cooled at the sight of Gabriel tears and his first instinct was to embrace his youngest brother, to protect him from what was harming him. He refrained, knowing Gabriel wouldn't appreciate the gesture.

"Three days," he said quietly and Gabriel looked at him in confusion. "I am glad to see you back."

Gabriel sniffed his tears away. "Where else would I have gone?" he asked, a little bitterly.

 _"Anywhere else,"_ Michael replied silently, lifting one shoulder in a tiny shrug.

Gabriel was less shocked by the words and more by what was almost a helpless gesture, would have been a helpless gesture, except that Michael wasn't, and never would be, helpless.

"I'll fight, Michael," he said softly. "I'll protect our home. I'll protect our family. But please, please don't make me fight Lucifer."

Michael studied him coolly for a moment, then he nodded. "Fair enough." He turned to leave.

"Hey, Michael?" Gabriel began hesitantly.

"Yes?" Michael turned back.

"Thanks for…you know," Gabriel wasn't sure how thank him for not punishing him for his blatant disobedience.

Michael cocked a curious eyebrow and the expression was so familiar, so unexpected, so… _past_ Michael, that it made Gabriel's chest hurt.

"I left him in the garden," he elaborated, feeling his wings tense nervously. "I did. And I _was_ going to leave him there but…he called out for me and he sounded so scared…I couldn't _not_ go."

Understanding dawned and Michael nodded. "I know."

He took flight. Now that Gabriel was back safely, he could attend to his duties properly. As he flew by the library, he heard a triumphant shout and a little redbird flew out of the window with Balthazar close behind. The Fledgling was covered from head to toe to wingtips in red dust.

"Stay out of the library, indeed," Michael muttered.

He suddenly felt a pulse of Grace and he seized the connection with startling ferocity.

 _"Azazel! Where have you been?!"_

 _"My apologies, Michael,"_ the Seraphim replied. _"I had caught a trace of Lucifer's Grace and I decided to investigate further before notifying you, in the event the trail came to nothing."_

 _"And?"_ Michael demanded impatiently.

 _"I found where he had been, but by the time I arrived, he had vanished. Would you like for me to continue searching?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _"Very well, I shall let you know the moment I find something."_

Azazel's Grace vanished and Michael pulsed his to the other Seraphim searching for his fallen brother.

 _"Dagon, Ramiel, Asmodeus, Azazel has picked up Lucifer's trail. Join him in the hunt."_

 _"Yes."_

 _"Of course."_

 _"As you wish."_

Michael flew to the highest plateau on the edge of Heaven. For a moment, he allowed his Grace to open fully and relax, the equivalent of a leisurely stretch. Then, he pulled it back, leaving a dozen conjured phantoms in its wake. He drew his blade and took a defensive stance, his eyes flashing as his Grace blazed up and around him. The next time he fought Lucifer, he intended the outcome to be far different.

* * *

"Who will our Mentor be, do you think?" Castiel asked with sleepy excitement.

"I don't know," Eliyon said, stretching out on the warm grass. "Who are the Mentors?"

"That's a good question," Castiel frowned thoughtfully. Then, the frown turned into a full scowl when Balthazar's bird landed on his forehead. "Hey! Balthazar, keep your bird over there with you!"

"He's a bird!" Balthazar exclaimed indignantly. "I can't control where he goes!"

"You could try!" Castiel retorted.

Eliyon smiled contentedly at the ensuing argument. Then, worry settled in his chest.

 _I hope we get the same Mentor._

The following morning, Esme's Flock along with Liel's and another made their way to a part of Heaven the Fledglings had never seen before. Angels stood guard over the buildings and sparred ferociously in arenas, their weapons flashing dully in the dim, gray light. The stars swirled overhead, but were growing steadily fainter as the Fledglings lined up in the large courtyard. Eliyon stood between Castiel and Balthazar and tried to look around without moving his head. Castiel's face was schooled in a stoic expression copied from the mature Angels around them. Balthazar was managing to hold back his pout. He'd had to leave his bird in the garden, though Samandriel had been all too happy to receive a new feathered friend.

Angels emerged from the building ahead of them and two of them moved to stand before the other two Flocks. Eliyon's mouth went dry and he swallowed with difficulty as he watched each Angel lead a Flock away, missing the approach of a third Angel.

"Young ones."

Eliyon snapped around and froze. He didn't want to be reprimanded on his first day. His nervousness gave way to confusion, then cautious pleasure when he recognized the Angel standing before him. The Flock shifted uncertainly. The others hadn't been addressed before their departure.

"I am Ezekiel," the Angel's deep voice carried easily. "You are Fledglings no longer. Today, you begin learning your duties as a warrior of Heaven." He looked over the group and an understanding smile touched his face. "I understand your nervousness. We have all stood in this place. Understand this first: Not one of you is exactly alike. Not all of you will have the same capabilities. This does not make you inept. The standard we all adhere to is honor and obedience to Father's will. Accomplish those things, and you will never know shame."

Eliyon felt the others around him relax, himself included.

"Each of us has different strengths," Ezekiel went on. "It is my duty, and my privilege, to find those strengths." His gaze lingered on Eliyon and he gave a faint nod. "Let us begin."

* * *

Okay, so we all know in the SPNverse that demons are made from human souls. The Princes of Hell were among the first and they were phenomenally powerful, but why? Hence, my headcanon: They were originally angels that fell and became human for the sole purpose of following Lucifer :) See? It would have spoiled things.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I'M ALIIIVE! No, really! I am! Is anybody still here? If I fall to my knees and apologize, will that make up for the terribly long time I've been gone? Okay, so here's the things. 1) Senior year of college 0.0 2) Had a wreck back in EARLY November, no one was hurt and it wasn't my fault, that didn't get resolved until Mid-DECEMBER! 3) My dad has done two different stays in the hospital, he's okay but still, it was MUCH stress 4) I was sick over Christmas and everybody knows what a weenie I am and don't ask me anything while I'm sick lol

Aaaaanywaaays, here we are with our favorite Fledglings and our all-time fave Archangel. Although, I have to say, in the course of writing this fic and others- because my brain is scary and if I don't write down everything when I think of it, I will forget forever-I have developed a special love for Michael. I kid you not, I have a word doc that's nothing but random fic scenes that were super cool that I was unwilling to risk losing to the muck in my mind. We have some familiar faces and a teensy bit more headcanon...trust me, you'll know it when you see it aaand I'll end with a brief A/N just in case ^_^

Shoutouts tooooo: Spyrofury767, monkeygirl77, PrincessMagic, BrokenPheonix, and UsedToBeSomething279! Thanks sooo much for talking to me! MUAH! Love you guys. And to everyone that has faved and followed and put up with my nonexistent upload schedule, reviews or no, you have earned sainthood.

Enjoy!

* * *

Balthazar flopped across the bed with a groan. His wings ached, his head ached, his arms ached—

"Balthazar, that's my bed," Castiel said dryly as he put away his practice sword.

"You're not using it," Balthazar grumbled.

Castiel flopped down without another word, pinning Balthazar's wing and knocking him in the head with his own.

"Alright! Fine!" Balthazar exclaimed, batting black feathers out of his face. "Let me up."

Castiel grinned and raised up just enough to let him move. Balthazar grabbed his shirt and dragged him off the bed, wrestling him to the floor. Eliyon walked in to put away his things and shook his head at his two friends.

"What have we here?"

They all stopped and turned to see Zachariah standing in the doorway with his arms crossed.

"Fighting in the barracks carries a heavy punishment," he informed them, barely containing his smirk. "Even the lenient Ezekiel can't overlook that."

"They aren't fighting," Eliyon replied coolly.

Zachariah turned to glower at him. "Did you say something, Fledgling?"

"I said, they aren't fighting," Eliyon repeated, squaring his shoulders.

Zachariah levelled a threatening finger at him. "Don't think that just because Gabriel has a soft spot for you that your defiance will be tolerated!"

Eliyon cocked his head slightly. "I would expect defiance to be punished most severely," he said. A glint appeared in his silver eyes and he sent out a small pulse of Grace. "Just as I suspect abuse of subordinates would be, as well. Even lenient Ezekiel couldn't overlook that."

"No, I certainly would not," Ezekiel landed with a rush of wind.

Castiel and Balthazar scrambled to their feet and saluted as he strode inside.

"I sincerely hope the two of you weren't fighting," Ezekiel said, but there was a spark in his eyes that told them he knew what was going on.

"No sir," Castiel replied.

"I pulled him off the bed," Balthazar confessed, trying to smooth his rumpled clothing.

"Hmmm," Ezekiel studied them closely. "I was worried I had worked you too hard today but since you still have the energy to grapple with each other, let's carry on with it in the yard, yes?"

Balthazar almost looked devastated. "Yes sir."

"Zachariah," Ezekiel turned and gave him a heavy-lidded look of warning, "I do believe you're needed at your barracks. Send Anna to me on your way out."

"Of course," Zachariah answered and strode regally from the room.

Ezekiel jerked his head toward the door and Castiel and Balthazar made their way outside.

"A moment, Eliyon," Ezekiel stopped him as he tried to follow.

Eliyon looked up apprehensively.

"I will not tolerate disrespect," Ezekiel told him severely. Then, he softened. "You did well, calling me."

Eliyon relaxed a bit. "I just didn't want him to hurt Castiel and Balthazar. They weren't fighting."

"No, they were not," Ezekiel agreed with a sigh, then he cocked an eyebrow at Eliyon. "Lenient Ezekiel, hm?"

Eliyon ducked his head. "It's what he said," he answered quietly.

"I see," Ezekiel nodded. "Since you're still wearing your gear, you can practice drills."

"Yes sir," Eliyon replied with a smart salute and made his way to the yard.

Wings fluttered behind Ezekiel and he turned to see Anna coming through the door.

"You wished to see me, sir?" she asked.

"I want you to keep an eye on Castiel and Balthazar," Ezekiel told her. "Make sure they don't get into too much trouble."

She lifted her head in understanding. "Yes sir, I'll…look after them."

He nodded, looked around the barracks with a grimace and left. Zachariah's residue would linger there for at least a week. He was glad the Angel hadn't come to his personal quarters.

* * *

The cell opened with a loud clang and Naomi stepped out, dragging a tray of odd items behind her. Gadreel's heavy breathing followed her down the corridor and the sound of weak flapping echoed off the stone as he tried to move. She frowned thoughtfully. She hadn't touched his wings.

 _Something to bear in mind for the future._

Thaddeus met her at the gate with an expression bordering on a leer. "So, how was the session today?"

"I'm not testing the methods yet," she said archly, "only the tools."

"And?" he pressed.

She looked down her nose at him. "I have reports to make."

"Of course," he opened the gate with a sweeping, mocking bow. "Do let me know if I can be of assistance in the future."

"Thaddeus," she somehow made his name into a slur, "my work is delicate and would not survive your heavy-handed barbarism."

With that, she strode away toward her office. When she entered, she found Michael leaning against her desk with an impatient glower.

"Michael," she sounded surprised, nervous even. "I haven't prepared a report yet. I've only just finished."

"Hm," he grunted and brandished a stack of reports from her desk, thoroughly unimpressed. "I already have one animal in that dungeon, Naomi. There isn't room for two."

Her mouth fell open and she blinked at the insult.

"You promised me results," he growled. "Thus far, all you've given me is a mutilated prisoner."

She took a breath to calm her ruffled nerves. "I confess that…I wasn't quite prepared for how resilient Gadreel has been—"

"Of course, he's resilient," Michael snapped. "Did you think he was named Sentry simply because he was Father's fifth son?"

She opened to her mouth to argue, then thought better of it. "I finally broke through."

His eyes narrowed with interest. "And?"

"I can now access the deepest areas of an Angel's Grace," she announced with a proud smile, a faint twitch of her thin lips. "Even as far as their core. Of course, _that_ cannot be altered. However—"

"Will it work?" he demanded.

She straightened. "Yes. Once I've finished, they will obey without question."

"Good," he said grimly and stood to leave.

"Shall I continue my methods of testing?" she asked.

"No," he stopped with his hand on the door. "I want him to remember."

Michael left Naomi's office and strode through the courtyard. Once, he'd enjoyed the tranquil sight. Now, it all seemed as shallow as an illusion.

 _Is it because I've made it one?_

A glint of gold caught his eye and he paused. Gabriel came around the bend, letting his wings drag in the flowering bushes the way he had as a Fledgling. Michael's lips twitched in a sad smile at the memory of his little brother running with petals and pollen clinging to his feathers, only to flap them in their faces, overwhelming them with the scents.

"I suppose you'll never mature out of some behaviors," he mused loud enough for Gabriel to hear.

Gabriel looked up in surprise. "It feels good on my wings," he said with a grin.

"Hm," Michael nodded. "That's what you always said."

Gabriel's smile turned sad. Then, he shook his head, dispelling the mood. "Have you seen the Flocks in training?"

"I have," Michael replied. "I haven't studied them as individuals yet."

"They look good," Gabriel said. "Eliyon, Castiel, Balthazar, they're some of the best we've had yet."

"It's a little early to make that judgement," Michael admonished mildly.

Gabriel shook his head. "If you want a good squad, don't separate those three. They already operate as smoothly as any team we have."

"Undoubtedly due to the mischief they've gotten into together," Michael commented wryly and frowned at Gabriel's blasé shrug. "That should bother you, you know."

"They're just Fledglings," Gabriel said dismissively.

"No, they're not," Michael said slowly. "They can't be. Not with this threat still present. I wish they—" he broke off suddenly as the sounds of his search squad screams slammed into his Grace.

"Michael, what's wrong?" Gabriel demanded, seeing his brother's eyes go wide.

"Stay here!" Michael commanded sternly and took flight, his wings surging with a clap of thunder.

Azazel, Asmodeus, Ramiel, Dagon. They were all screaming and one by one, they each fell silent. Michael landed with a flash of lightning, the sky boiling with his wrath. All of his lieutenants, his strongest fighters, lay strewn about, their hands still clutching their blades, their Grace brutally carved out. A lingering chill permeated the scene of the massacre and he could almost hear his brother's rumbling chime of laughter.

Michael gripped his blade and the ground cracked beneath his feet.

"I cast you down once," he seethed. "I shall do so again!"

A tendril of ice seeped into his fiery Grace. _"You always were tenacious. I cautioned you against it so many times. I'm almost grieved you never listened. Almost."_

"Show yourself!" Michael demanded.

 _"To what end? You have the advantage here. Do not worry, dear brother, we will meet and I shall have a gift for you when we do."_

"You will not win this," Michael growled.

 _"Oh, beloved brother, I already have."_

* * *

 _A/N: So did anybody catch the headcanon? If not, here it is. How did Naomi know how to control the angels? I mean, it's not like they would have lined up for her to carve apart and learn how they worked, right? Well, why wait for willing help when you've got a prisoner at your disposal? I'm sorry, Gadreel...I love you, I swear I do._

 _Oh by the way, when I said I have a special love for Michael, I do and I reeeaaallly like writing some serious whumpage for him. Yes, I am a writer of angst. Fear me._

 _On that note, monkeygirl77, I'm still waiting on your vengeance heheh._

 _People, if you haven't, go check out her fic Armours. It's super cool! One of my favorites! And while you're at it, check out Spyrofury767's fic Messenger of Letters. Another really cool one. They're both ongoing and they are sooo much better at updating than me!_


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Hihi! So, we're back with Eliyon and the gang. We're leading up to some big events. It may not look like it, but it's true.

Shoutouts to: 1Corinthians 1313, Spyrofury767, PrincessMagic, UsedToBeSomething.279 and nafoloHrepuS! Thanks so much for the reviews! And welcome, new readers!

Enjoy!

* * *

Michael watched the flocks sparring in the arena and found himself being constantly drawn back to Ezekiel's. The older Angel's methods were…somewhat unconventional, but he consistently produced some of the best warriors Heaven had, so Michael was obliged to tolerate it. However, on this particular day, Ezekiel was noticeably absent. Castiel and Balthazar sparred together under the watchful eye of Anna, one of Ezekiel's Graduates and the black-winged Fledgling's movements were almost too fast for the eye to follow. Balthazar, though slower, showed a level of deviousness in his technique, though Michael expected nothing less. Though he never actually resorted to dirty tactics, he did catch Castiel by surprise more than once and won his share of the matches.

As Michael watched, this match turned out to be such a one. Balthazar rolled Castiel in the dust and stood, holding both blades up in triumph. Then, he helped Castiel to his feet and returned his weapon. Michael nodded approvingly at that.

"Eliyon," Ezekiel called and the bronze-winged Graduate stepped into the arena. Ezekiel stepped back and the spar began.

Eliyon and Balthazar circled each other slowly, constantly adjusting themselves, preparing for the other to strike at familiar weaknesses. Balthazar dove forward first. Eliyon blocked his two strikes without retreating and Balthazar stepped back, blade up and ready.

A flash of gold caught Michael's eye and he saw Gabriel land on the upper level of the arena, several feet away. Gabriel's eyes widened in surprise when he saw Michael and he drifted over.

"I thought you were inspecting the other Flocks," Gabriel told him.

"I was," Michael replied. "Ezekiel's have always been the more impressive." He nodded at the combatants.

Gabriel grinned proudly. "You should have been here last week. Zachariah ended up with a mouth full of dust."

Michael fought the urge to smile. "And how did that come about?"

"Ezekiel was at a Garrison meeting and he'd left Anna in charge," Gabriel began. "Zachariah showed up while Eliyon and Castiel were sparring and made some remark about the two of them not being ready for Graduate status. He challenged them, really."

Michael's lips pursed into a tight line of disapproval. While he could see the zeal behind Zachariah's actions, the Angel had already established a precedent where Eliyon was concerned.

"He was all insults and sneering," Gabriel continued. "And Anna offered to let him test them, whichever one he wanted."

"He chose Eliyon," Michael interjected knowingly.

Gabriel's grin couldn't have gotten any bigger. "He picked Eliyon. The fight didn't last three rounds and Eliyon had him in the dirt. Ah, Michael, it was glorious."

Michael actually chuckled. "I can imagine."

The two Fledglings were fighting in earnest now, kicking up dust as they lunged and twisted away from each other. Their wings were flared aggressively when they took a few steps back, blades held defensively. Then, they both lunged forward. Neither gave ground before the other and they traded blows and grappled, trying to overpower each other. Eliyon swung a high overhand, then, when Balthazar blocked the strike, he practically vaulted off the blade—

Michael leaned forward in surprise.

—and spun with a barely perceptible flap of a wing, bringing his blade to bear on Balthazar's side.

Balthazar felt Eliyon's blade bite into his side just as the movement registered in his mind. He screamed in agony and dropped to his knees, clutching the deep gash, hot Grace spilling over his fingers.

"Balthazar!" Eliyon's voice was a shriek of panic. He dropped his blade and fell to his knees beside his friend. He wrapped his arms around him, supporting him against his chest. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't—I thought—" He'd never seen Balthazar look so afraid. He pressed a hand to the wound, trying to heal the damage and Balthazar screeched in pain. "I didn't mean to!" Eliyon cried, tears burning in his eyes. "EZEKIEL!"

"I have him, Eliyon," Ezekiel told him, his deep voice firm and steadying. He took Balthazar and laid him down to see the wound more clearly. His serious expression turned grave when he saw the depth of the injury. He gripped the wound tightly and Balthazar chimed in pain, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I'm so sorry, Balthazar," Eliyon was still trying to heal his friend, tears sliding down his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he realized how pathetic it sounded, as though saying he was sorry would ever be good enough for he'd done.

Balthazar gripped his hand, tears slipping into his hair. "Don't…leave," he begged weakly.

"I won't," Eliyon gripped his hand tightly. "I won't leave. I promise."

"How bad is it?" Gabriel asked, kneeling next to the wounded Fledgling. _"Everything is going to be fine, kiddo,"_ he told Eliyon, brushing his Grace comfortingly.

 _"No it isn't! What if he dies?!"_ Eliyon's Grace sparked with panic.

 _"He won't,"_ Gabriel promised him. _"We won't let him."_

"The wound is deep," Ezekiel told Gabriel. "I've healed a good deal of it."

"Let me see what I can do," Gabriel shifted closer and put a hand on Balthazar's chest. "You're going to be fine," he assured him. "Sit him up," he instructed Eliyon.

Balthazar hissed in pain as Eliyon moved him and hugged him close. He could feel his friend's rapid, shallow breathing.

"Gabriel," Eliyon begged the Archangel.

Gabriel didn't reply but slowly, the wound stopped gushing Grace and knit closed. Balthazar's breathing steadied and he sagged in Eliyon's arms

"He'll need some time in the infirmary to completely recover," Ezekiel said. "But he will live."

"I'll take him," Eliyon said in a small voice. However, the look he gave Ezekiel made it clear that it was a request, a plea even.

Ezekiel nodded and Eliyon stood with his friend and flew him back to the barracks.

 _"Ezekiel,"_ Michael's Grace commanded the Angel's attention. _"When you have finished drilling the Flock, come to my aerie. We must talk."_

Ezekiel looked up to where the eldest Archangel stood, watching the entire event. _"Of course."_

Gabriel flew back to where Michael stood leaning on the railing, looking entirely unperturbed. "Thanks for your help," he said bitingly.

"You shouldn't have interfered," Michael informed him.

"He was hurt!" Gabriel exclaimed hotly. "And you just stood there!"

"If you would not interfere for them all, then do not interfere for those few," Michael told him coolly. "Not even Eliyon."

Gabriel's Grace flared angrily. "It was an accident, Michael."

"I know that," Michael said, his tone more reassuring than commanding. "Such things are inevitable. Did you see what happened?"

"I was standing right beside you," Gabriel replied pithily.

"Yes, but did you see?" Michael insisted.

Gabriel felt like a Fledgling again, under his brother's tutelage and missing an obvious, but vitally important fact. "What did you see?"

* * *

Eliyon flew to the infirmary and laid Balthazar gently on a bed. The room was empty except for a few Graduates from the other Flocks, all nursing sprains, and similar injuries. None of them had nearly died.

"Balthazar, I'm so sorry," he whispered, tucking his friend's wings comfortably on the bed. "I'll be right back. I promise."

He flew for the Fledglings' garden. The wards offered light resistance since he was now mostly matured, but it was only a warning and he expected the feeling of blades scraping over him. He smiled at the sight of the Fledglings playing but he was looking for one in particular. A flash of bright orange and yellow caught his eye and headed for a small group just as they finished a game of tag.

Samandriel rolled in the grass, laughing after a particularly hard tackle had sent him and his pursuer sprawling and resulted in a round of roughhousing. Then, he felt a familiar Grace and leaped to his feet. "Eliyon!"

Eliyon dropped to his knees and caught the youngster in a hug. "How are you?"

"Tired," Samandriel giggled. "They always chase me first."

"That's because you're so bright," Eliyon smiled. He ran a gentle hand over the Fledgling's wings, checking for damage and obstructions. They were still so downy but he had true feathers growing in. No flight feathers yet.

"You look sad," Samandriel commented with a frown.

Eliyon took a deep breath. "Balthazar was hurt today," he said slowly. "It was my fault. He'll be alright but…I need your help."

Samandriel pulled away. "I know what will make him feel better," he announced and rushed to his nest.

Eliyon smiled sadly, glad that Samandriel was still too young to understand that some wounds didn't heal, that not everything could be cured with a lullaby and a Caretaker's kiss.

"Here!" Samandriel came running back, the red bird clutched in his hands. "He likes these seeds best." He handed Eliyon the bird and a pouch full of seeds. "But not too many because they make him too fat to fly."

Eliyon laughed softly at the bird's roly-poly body. "I can see that. Thank you, Samandriel. This is will be the perfect thing." He'd come to ask for the bird, but he hadn't expected the Fledgling to give it up so easily. "I'll come back soon."

Samandriel hugged his knees, the only place he could reach while Eliyon was standing. "Tell Balth'zar I miss him. Stories aren't so fun anymore."

"I'll tell him," Eliyon promised.

When he returned to the infirmary, it was empty except for his unconscious friend. He set the bird on the pillow by his head and gave it a pinch of seed. As it ate, it let out the sweetest trill and sank into a soft melody. Eliyon laughed softly when he recognized Samandriel's favorite lullaby. Despite Balthazar's disparaging opinion of such things, the pained lines in his face faded at the sound and his breathing evened as he fell more deeply asleep.

Eliyon sat on the bed next to him and threaded his fingers anxiously. "Samandriel misses you," he began softly. "He said that the stories weren't as fun to listen to since you aren't there…"

* * *

Ezekiel stepped into the sitting area of Michael's aerie and bowed slightly. "Michael. Gabriel," he greeted them respectfully.

Michael nodded. "Sit."

Ezekiel took a chair. "I imagine this is about today."

"It is," Michael confirmed, pouring the three of them a drink. "How is Balthazar?"

"He will recover," Ezekiel replied, accepting his cup with a nod of thanks. "Eliyon though, I am not so sure."

Gabriel's expression tightened at that.

"He's in shock," Michael said evenly. "He'll be fine once that wears off. We've all had mishaps in the arena."

"True enough," Ezekiel agreed. "He says he mistimed his strike."

Michael's brows rose in surprise as he took a drink. "Really."

"He doesn't want Balthazar to receive a demerit," Gabriel said bluntly.

Ezekiel nodded. In training, mistimed maneuvers resulted in demerits and every time an attack wasn't defended effectively, a demerit resulted. "I'm not going to give either of them a demerit."

"You saw it too, then," Michael stated.

Ezekiel sat back in his chair. "I do not believe anyone other than a seasoned warrior could have blocked or dodged that attack," he said. "It happened so quickly, I almost didn't see it myself."

"So, what are we going to do about it?" Gabriel asked.

"I'm removing Eliyon from your instruction," Michael told Ezekiel."

"What?!" Gabriel exclaimed.

Ezekiel straightened, his Grace reeling with shock. "I see," he said stoically. "Very well."

"No! Not 'very well'. Michael, what are you thinking?" Gabriel demanded.

Michael gave him a sharp look and turned back to Ezekiel. "This is not an issue with your skills as a Mentor."

Ezekiel narrowed his eyes. "Then…what is it?"

"Eliyon will not advance anymore, not under your instruction," Michael went on. "I'm attaching him to a Garrison."

"Don't split them up, Michael," Gabriel groaned. "They're too good together. Today was an accident. You've seen them work as a team. They're almost flawless."

"In this…I must agree with Gabriel," Ezekiel interjected respectfully. "Separating the three would be a mistake."

"Would you rather have today repeated?" Michael asked. "Or worse, would you prefer to see Eliyon become battle-shy?"

Ezekiel looked a little startled by that thought.

"As his Mentor, he will obey any order you give," Michael went on. "But after today, he will never win another spar. He won't be willing to risk injuring one of them again. His skills will deteriorate and he'll become a liability in battle."

Ezekiel's frown became more thoughtful than alarmed. "You are right," he said after a moment.

Michael tossed back what was left in his cup and set it down with an air of finality. "I'm sending him to the Grigori. Send him to me once Balthazar is recovered."

"I will," Ezekiel said and left the aerie.

Gabriel sighed audibly in relief. "At least you're not going to drag him off immediately."

Michael's Grace pulsed a little sadly. "I'm not cruel, Gabriel."

"Gadreel might disagree with you," Gabriel replied flatly.

Michael turned to him, his eyes flashing angrily. "Gadreel committed a crime. He didn't accidentally wound a Graduate."

"Gadreel was tricked," Gabriel argued. "You think Lucifer fought his way into Eden? Do you think he would have stood a chance if he'd tried? Gadreel fought off half the Leviathans when they tried to get inside. There's a reason Father gave him the duty of protecting it."

Michael's wings slowly flared with his temper. "He shouldn't have let him in, regardless. He knew the state of affairs here, if he was so uncertain, he should have verified with me."

"Oh, so you would be above reproach but not Lucifer?" Gabriel retorted. "He didn't know."

"He should have," Michael said flatly.

"He doesn't deserve to be in prison," Gabriel growled.

"Attempt to free him, and you'll have the cell next to his," Michael warned dangerously.

"Michael, listen to yourself!" Gabriel begged.

"Do you disagree that he was involved in a treasonous act?" Michael demanded.

Gabriel opened his mouth, but couldn't find a counter-argument.

"Do you dispute that Father's most treasured creation has been forever tainted as a result of his failure to perform his duty?" Michael went on. "The fact that he is the fifth Angel of creation and the only one Father saw fit to name Sentry, is the only reason he wasn't executed where he was found. His failure is unpardonable. Prison is where he stays."


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Hihi! Here I am and here this is! Sorry, it took so long, craziness happened. Story of my life. So, we get to see Eliyon in a garrison, yippee! First day, he's the new kid, let's see how it goes.

Shoutouts to: UsedToBeSomething279, Balloony Toons, Spyrofury767, Kathy, PrincessMagic, monkeygirl77, yerma, and TheFriendYouHate! Thanks so much for the reviews! Welcome new readers! Hope you stick around for a bit even though my upload schedule is non-existent.

Yerma, you sounded a little conflicted lol.

TheFriendYouHate, unfortunately, Eliyon won't follow Gabe, I'll go ahead and just say that.

Monkeygirl77, you know I always deliver! I'll never leave you hanging for long. Yes, Eliyon is terribly underestimated and there will be people who regret that.

And a whiiile back, Krislyngera asked if Eliyon would have a relationship with the Winchesters. The answer is yes, he will. Our baby angel will meet the Winchesters and get drawn into the funk of their lives. Not in this fic, though. That happens in a later fic that I'm working on.

To everyone who vouched for Gadreel, thank you. He deserved so much better than what he got. I plan to rectify that in a later fic, too.

Enjoy!

* * *

Balthazar stood up slowly, testing his legs while Eliyon kept a firm, steadying hand on his arm.

"Well," he huffed when he could stand on his own and take a step without shaking or falling, "I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later."

Eliyon frowned slightly. "This is a good thing, you know?"

"I know," Balthazar sighed good-naturedly. "I'm alright," he assured Eliyon. "That was bound to happen sooner or later, too. One of us was going to get hurt."

Eliyon shook his head. "But not nearly killed."

Balthazar smirked. "You think you nearly killed me? Come on, like either you or Castiel could actually take me out for good."

Eliyon smiled weakly, glad to see his friend in such good humor.

Anna walked into the infirmary, her normally serious expression almost grim. "Eliyon, Ezekiel wants to see you. I'll take Balthazar back to the barracks."

Eliyon saluted and left. The instant he stepped outside, he found Ezekiel waiting for him.

"Come with me," his Mentor said with the same uncharacteristic grimness Anna had shown.

Eliyon nodded and took flight after Ezekiel, keeping a respectful distance behind him. After a brief flight, they landed before one of the Archangel's aeries. Michael's.

Eliyon's eyes went wide. "Ezekiel? Why are we here?"

"Michael wished to speak with you," Ezekiel told him calmly.

Eliyon Grace churned with dread. "I didn't mean to hurt Balthazar."

"He knows," Ezekiel assured him and led him inside.

Michael stood talking to another Angel, one Eliyon had never seen before. He dropped his eyes respectfully when he entered the Archangel's presence.

"Ezekiel. Eliyon," Michael greeted them cordially. "I trust Balthazar has recovered."

Ezekiel glanced at Eliyon, letting him know the inquiry was for him.

"Yes, Anna took him back to the barracks today," Eliyon told Michael.

"Good," Michael nodded. "There are some things we must discuss."

Eliyon's wings folded nervously against his back and he dropped his eyes back to the floor.

"I was at the arena that day," Michael told him.

Eliyon winced. "You saw?" He'd assumed that Ezekiel had turned in a report, not that Michael had witnessed the incident firsthand.

"I did," Michael nodded and Eliyon glanced up at him. He didn't sound upset at all. "Would you like to know exactly what I saw? I saw a student who was excelling. Balthazar had no chance to block or evade that attack." He held up a hand to stall Eliyon's protest. "No one here believes that you mistimed the maneuver."

Eliyon's eyes slowly widened, both in apprehension and surprise. He'd hurt Balthazar terribly and yet, Michael sounded _impressed_.

"This is Tamiel," Michael introduced the unfamiliar Angel. "He leads the Grigori. You've heard of them, yes?"

Eliyon nodded. "Yes." He saluted the Captain and Tamiel nodded in acknowledgment.

"I'm attaching you to his garrison," Michael told him. "You will leave with him today."

"Today?" Eliyon repeated in shock. "What about Castiel and Balthazar?"

"They will continue their training under Ezekiel," Michael replied.

Eliyon looked from Michael to Tamiel, to Ezekiel, feeling trapped.

"This will be for the best," Ezekiel assured him.

Eliyon nodded, though his feathers were flat with worry and his Grace felt like it was going to twist out of him.

Michael studied him keenly. He could feel the nervousness pouring off the young Angel.

"Give us a moment," he nodded to the others. When the door closed, he sighed. "You aren't being punished, Eliyon."

Eliyon tried to hide his look of disbelief.

"Neither of you will receive a demerit," Michael went on. "Excellence should be rewarded, not punished."

"Excellence?" Eliyon repeated. "I nearly killed my friend."

"Would you fight him again?" Michael asked.

Eliyon opened his mouth and closed it just as quickly.

"I thought not," Michael said, seeing the reluctance in his eyes. "That is why I'm placing you with the Grigori. In time, Castiel and Balthazar will be placed in garrisons, as well. Your placement is simply being accelerated."

"So that I don't hurt anyone else," Eliyon concluded dismally.

"So that you don't become _afraid_ of hurting anyone else," Michael corrected. "There is no room here, for the battle-shy. Tamiel is waiting for you."

Eliyon nodded and saluted at the dismissal. He left Michael's aerie and found the Grigori Captain waiting outside. Ezekiel was nowhere to be seen.

"Come," Tamiel beckoned to him, his deep, oddly cadenced voice had a soothing effect on Eliyon's nerves.

"Where are we going?" Eliyon asked carefully. The Grigori's Grace was different, more reserved…more dangerous.

Tamiel smiled slightly. "Earth, of course. That is where all Grigori are stationed. We are the Watchers of mankind." He turned and flew for the gate.

Eliyon took flight after him. "May I have a moment to say goodbye?"

"To what end?" Tamiel asked. "You will see them again. When they are placed in garrisons, they will have no chance for a farewell, either. A warrior's life has little time for such sentimentality."

The Grigori was the fastest Angel Eliyon had met and keeping up with him was a challenge. However, it wasn't as difficult as it should have been and Tamiel was aware of that, even though Eliyon wasn't. They passed the gates and plunged through the Ether, arriving on Earth in a matter of moments. Eliyon breathed the air in deeply.

"You enjoy our Father's creation?" Tamiel inquired.

Eliyon nodded. "I do. What are my duties?"

Tamiel smiled faintly, almost slyly. "You are eager. That is good. But, you are not Grigori. To serve with us, you must become so. To become so, you must be bled."

Eliyon blinked in confusion. "Bled?"

Tamiel nodded once and there was a dark glint in his eyes. Another Grigori landed. Then, another. Then another until there were hundreds of them encircling the two Angels and Eliyon's wings flared instinctively when he realized that he was in the center of a fighting ring. Tamiel drew his bade and charged. Eliyon leapt back with a shout of surprise and drew his blade in time to spin and block the second strike. Tamiel bared his teeth in a predatory smile of approval.

Then, he spun around Eliyon and brought his blade down, slicing the tip across Eliyon's back between his wings.

Eliyon shrieked in pain and spun, lashing out and catching Tamiel's hand with his blade. A collective breath of surprise went up from the Watchers and the Grigori's Grace flared but not in anger, in something that was almost…encouragement. He circled Eliyon and the younger Angel matched his movements. Tamiel darted forward, almost vanishing from sight and Eliyon blocked his blade once, twice, but the third found his back again. For the remainder of the fight, Eliyon struggled to keep the Grigori at bay but inevitably felt the burn of the blade on his back.

Then, Tamiel slammed into him hard enough to knock him to his knees. Eliyon started to rise but stopped when he felt the blade resting against his neck.

"I don't understand," he panted. His back was on fire and even though Tamiel never once touched his wings, they trembled with painful muscle spasms.

"You will," Tamiel promised. He flexed his cut hand and fresh silver Grace oozed from the wound as he splayed his fingers at the top of Eliyon's back, directly on one of the wounds.

Eliyon hissed at the contact but as the Grigori's Grace wrapped around him, it chased the burn from each gash, leaving a soothing cool in its wake and he realized just what had happened during his "bleeding". Tamiel had written the Grigori symbol on his back with the tip of his blade, as delicate as calligraphy and as undeniable as the earth he knelt on.

"Now," Tamiel pulled him to his feet, "you are Grigori. Now, your duties begin."

The surrounding Grigori drew their swords and a shout of welcome went up from the Angels. As the sound faded to echoes, Eliyon slowly stood, his Grace warming with relief. He belonged here. He was no longer an oddity. He was Grigori.

"First, we must find your vessel," one of the Grigori stated and Tamiel gave Eliyon an expectant look.

"I don't have a vessel," Eliyon told him loudly enough for the others to hear, as well. "I can leave the Ether on my own."

"Yes, so can we all, but not without harming are Father's Humans."

Eliyon glanced at Tamiel and when the Grigori Captain gave him a nod of approval, he stepped through to the physical plane.

"Impossible," the Grigori growled. "How?"

Eliyon turned a slow circle, making sure nothing had changed since the last time he'd crossed over. "I don't know. It's been this way since I was a Fledgling."

"Good, this is excellent," Tamiel said with obvious pleasure. "Now," he spun the blade in his hand, "we train."

* * *

Eliyon dashed between the trees, weaving around the massive trunks, shooting through the canopies and diving back to the ground, alternating forms. An owl, a panther, a wolf. Each time he shifted, he felt Tamiel hesitate in his pursuit. He took his true form again and surged forward, feeling Tamiel's Grace spark with realization. However, the Grigori didn't immediately come after him. He seemed…confused almost.

Eliyon shifted to an owl and landed on a branch, curious. He preened a couple of twisted feathers and took flight, gliding beneath the leaves. So far, this form was his favorite. Any other creature sent the little night animals scurrying for shelter but as an owl, his flight was silent.

He landed abruptly and opened his wings, studying the feathers and recalling a conversation he'd had with Gabriel so long ago about the serrated edges of his wings. The owl's wings were identical to his. Excitement building, he shifted to his true form as quietly as possible, suppressing his Grace so that Tamiel wouldn't find him. Yet. He took flight, paying special attention to the movements of his wings. They made almost no sound at all. He followed Tamiel's Grace and landed right behind the Grigori. With an impish smirk, he placed the tip of his blade against the back of Tamiel's neck.

The Grigori Captain spun around faster than the eye could follow, bringing his sword to bear on the younger Angel. Eliyon dodged and met the next strike as the fight began anew. Finally, Tamiel knocked him onto his back and he lay there panting, unable to move.

"You are a very sly Angel," Tamiel growled, but his eyes shone with the excitement of the fight. "How did you come so close to me?"

Eliyon flapped one wing tiredly and Tamiel knelt to examine it. "Ah, I see. Very much like the owl form you seem to favor. Small wonder." He sheathed his sword and pulled Eliyon to his feet. "Enough for today. Rest. We will continue tomorrow."


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Halloooo! Is anybody still here? I'm alive! I really am! I took a mini-mester this summer and boy, let me tell you, you talk about FAST. I wish I'd done it sooner. A tornado hit my campus this spring. No one was hurt, thank God because it was Spring break and NO ONE was there. But they're going to have to demolish one of the buildings because the damage is irreparable. We're all very sad :'( I was helping with the cleanup, so no time to write there. And on...and on...and on...stuff and things and no time and #mymuseismeantome.

Anyway! I'm here!

You guys though, really, I feel bad. Getting the emails about the reviews and the follows and the favs, it made me feel so good that you haven't given up on me but I felt soooo bad because I wasn't getting you chapters and I'm so sorry.

Shoutouts! Monkeygirl77, uddelhexe, PrincessMagic, TheLittlePlaidMaid, and AnimeFreak71777. Thanks so much! I'm so happy you're enjoying and I hope I haven't scared you away with the lack of content.

I repeat this solemn promise: I will NEVER abandon a fic. EVER.

Uddelhexe and TheLittlePlaidMaid, glad to know I've got you hooked ;)

Monkeygirl77, always good to see you, my friend. I hope I continue to deliver adequate amounts of fluff, mystery, and angst for your reading pleasure.

Love you all!

* * *

Eliyon watched the village from the Ether, his grace expanded to the point that it blanketed the roofs and wound through the streets. He'd been on Earth for hundreds of years now. He'd stood guard over so many villages, seen them become cities and seen them fall. So many things had changed. They no longer spoke a unified language and the stones of their Tower, the last piece of evidence of their last united effort, had long crumbled away. He rarely saw the other Grigori, though Tamiel kept an eye on his Watchers. They were all on guard somewhere in the world.

Eliyon sighed contentedly and flexed his wings, the sun glinted off the bronze feathers that concealed the powerful muscles. He closed his eyes and just relaxed into his grace. He could feel every soul, bright and warm and glorious. The souls of the children were especially so.

The children were his favorite.

One child, a boy, had wandered from his friends and was dangerously close to the woods, to the predators that lurked within.

Eliyon faded into the form of a dog and padded toward him.

The boy looked startled by the sudden appearance of the dog, but then he smiled. "Hello, where did you come from?"

The dog gave a happy pant and started tugging on his shirt, wanting to play. Slowly, as they wrestled and played, they moved away from the woods.

That night, the boy managed to persuade his mother to let him keep his new friend and Eliyon slept beside his bed. That is until the mother turned down all the lamps and then the boy called him up onto his bed and he spent the night cuddling him into his fur.

The boy never noticed the tiny seconds when Eliyon vanished to check the village, and the villages twenty, fifty and a hundred miles away. He would go and return in the space of a breath, even before the boy's arms could collapse from the absence of the dog form he was sleeping with.

He stayed with the boy as a dog, watching over him, the village and the other settlements. For some reason, his grace resonated with this child, but not in the same way it would have if he'd found a vessel. This was…different. Something about this child's blood, his soul, was unique.

 _Destined._

 _"Stay with this one, Eliyon. His sons will play a critical part in the world in the days to come."_

Father's command filled him with warmth and he sighed happily. And so, he stayed. He stayed until the fur on his nose turned gray and the boy was a young man. He stayed until, as a dog, he died and the young man buried him, tears watering the earth like rain.

Then, the young man was out hunting one afternoon a week later and found a young dog caught in his snare instead of the game the young man wanted. His leg was broken. He freed him and took him home.

Eliyon spent that night sleeping on the bed with his charge once again.

* * *

Michael carried his completed lance to the armory wrapped in a white cloth. His grace was woven through it, powering it, identifying it as an Archangel's weapon. No one would dare touch it.

The Cage was complete now, ready to hold Heaven's second son. Michael was ready to end this fight once and for all. After all, Father had never said that he wanted Lucifer locked away alive. He felt the pull of the scars every time he flexed his wings and it fueled his bitter, black rage. Once a brother beloved, but no longer. Lucifer had betrayed Heaven and he would pay the price.

After locking the armory again, Michael flew to the Mercy Room. The coals glowed, crackling softly in the altar and the air twisted in the heat. He just stood there, wondering if it would flare with Father's wrath, sounding the call to war again. His grace churned painfully when nothing happened. Joshua had said that Father had gone. Some small part of him still denied that was true, or at least held on to the hope that he would come back. The twisting, blistering air rising from the altar only burned the inevitable realizing into his mind.

He was on his own.

Grace surged into the room and a rush of wings preceded Raphael's arrival.

"Michael!" he cried. "We must speak!"

"On what matter?" Michael asked evenly.

Raphael stepped up to him and grabbed his arm, his eyes wide with panic. "Where is Father?"

Michael turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I've just come from the garden," Raphael's voice was a hiss. "Joshua said…" he glanced around to make sure they were alone. "He said Father has left Heaven. I nearly smote him for the lie…" he trailed off, seeing Michael's stricken expression. "It is true," he breathed in horror.

Michael nodded. "It is true."

"How long?" Raphael demanded.

"I don't know," Michael said quietly.

"What are we to do?" Raphael asked. "Surely he left a message."

Michael shook his head.

"He must have!" Raphael insisted. "He must have left instructions. For you at least."

"He didn't," Michael growled. "But that changes nothing."

"This changes everything!"

Michael fisted his hands in Raphael's shirt and pinned him to the wall. "Keep your voice down," he growled. "This changes nothing. We have his last orders. The Cage is complete. We imprison Lucifer and continue in our duties until he returns. Understand?"

Raphael nodded, his cool demeanor returning. "I understand."

"This stays between us," Michael stated, releasing him. "Heaven will fall into chaos if the Angels find out. I don't need any more rebellions. Lucifer's defiance will go into the Cage with him and that will be the end of it."

"Of course," Raphael replied with a small bow and left.

Michael let out a slow breath to compose himself, to calm the fear that he'd concealed behind temper and orders. His wings shifted and he felt the scars. His grace heated with wrath once more.

 _One thing has changed, brother. Father could have saved you from me. But He was the only one._

* * *

 _Anybody wanna take a stab at who Eliyon's charge could be?_


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: I'M BACK, BABY! Words cannot express my regret for how long it's been since I updated this! Agh! I'm so sorry! I'm trying to graduate and that became a bit of a nightmare. I'm trying to find a job. I'm trying to write some original content for publishing. And on and on and on it goes, just stuff and things getting in the way. But I'm here and I'm in it up to my elbows, ladies, and gentlemen. Let's do this.

Hope everyone had a good Christmas! And I hope you all have a happy new year!

Shoutouts to: PrincessMagic! Wolfkid32! Applejax! And any and all Guest readers! Thanks so much for talking to me! Again, I'm so sorry I've been away for so long.

Here's a nice, LOADED chapter for you!

Enjoy!

* * *

Eliyon glided along, keeping pace with his charges easily. So many generations later, the little village had become a city and his first charge had become the patriarch of a strong lineage. He'd watched over them all, from birth to death, sometimes as himself, sometimes as a faithful companion or even as a friend. Currently, he was guarding twin sons and they were the most amusing by far. At any given moment, they could attack each other or chase away a lion.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over his grace and he drew his blade, on guard. Then the shadow became a shape in the trees, stalking his charges. He dove, slamming into it and driving it miles from the boys. When they finally stopped, the thing righted itself with a wet, hissing cackle. Dead gray and blackened flesh stretched too tightly over bones, limbs impossibly elongated, gruesome scars covering its body.

This wasn't something Father had created.

And yet, it felt familiar to him.

"Who are you?" Eliyon demanded harshly, holding his blade up, prepared for an attack.

The creature laughed again through its grossly distorted face. "He called me Lilith," it said. "I am the first."

Then it charged, slamming into him too quickly for him to dodge or deflect it. Lilith immediately lashed out at his wings, ripping through one with sharp talons and he screamed in pain. His grace flared angrily and threw it back with a screech as the holy light burned its flesh and he leaped to his feet.

Horror filled him to the brim.

In the midst of the attack, he'd realized what he was fighting.

Lilith was a _soul_.

"What happened? Who did this to you?" Eliyon demanded.

Lilith laughed again, baring fangs. "My father made me. I am the first. Many follow me, Angel. Your time of power will end!" She ended with a manic cackle.

"Who is your father?" Eliyon asked even though the word was bitter on his tongue. _Father_ had created everything, and humans were special to him. He would never twist one of his beloved souls into something so monstrous. So who had?

The answer hit him as she replied.

"Lucifer," she hissed gleefully. "He will claim Heaven's throne!" She dove for him again, only to vanish in a flash of fire right as she reached him.

Eliyon only spared a second to contemplate what had happened. He shot for Heaven faster than he'd ever flown.

Michael had to know what was happening.

* * *

Michael was in the Mercy Room, hoping, as ever, for some word from his Father. The Cage was complete. Lucifer was free. Once he was imprisoned, would Father return?

A frantic grace suddenly impacted his own.

 _"Michael!"_

He turned around in stunned surprise. "Eliyon?" He hadn't seen or heard from the Angel since he'd stationed him with the Grigori.

Eliyon landed, sliding through the doorway, feathers falling from his wounded wing. "Michael!"

"What has happened?" Michael asked. Eliyon was one of the few who could still elicit genuine concern from the Archangel.

"Lucifer is free!" Eliyon's voice dropped in volume but rose in intensity. "He's corrupting Father's humans! Their souls!"

Michael's eyes hardened and his jaw clenched.

Eliyon nearly gaped at him. "You knew?" he breathed in horror.

"I knew he was free," Michael said stonily. He saw no point in lying when Eliyon already knew the truth. "I did not know about the humans," he didn't sound particularly worried either. "Once Lucifer is locked away, we can repair the damage he has caused."

"No, Michael, we can't," Eliyon replied with shocking boldness.

The Archangel's wings slowly flared with his displeasure at being challenged.

"Michael, he's turning them into an army," Eliyon told him. "An army that can _kill_ Angels." Logically, it made sense that if Lilith could wound him, she could kill him. He opened his wing to prove his point. Coppery grace oozed from the gashes and dripped onto the floor.

"What did that?" Michael asked, eyeing the injuries worriedly.

"Her name was Lilith," Eliyon replied grimly. "She was the first."

Something about Eliyon's words prevented Michael from dismissing his concerns as he'd done so many others.

"Show me," he ordered and held his hand out.

Eliyon grasped his forearm and the fresh memories of the brief fight flashed through Michael's mind.

Whatever this creature was, it _had_ hurt Eliyon. And Eliyon was no ordinary Angel.

Heaven needed to be made aware of this threat.

"Go to the infirmary," Michael told him in a tone that would allow no argument.

"Yes, Michael," Eliyon nodded curtly after a moment's hesitation where he had seriously considered arguing, and left.

Michael was impressed with the Angel, in spite of himself. Flying with that injury, he'd been shaken by his discovery but not to the point of panic. He wanted to credit himself with Eliyon's maturity and capability, but he couldn't. Eliyon had exhibited those qualities as a Fledgling. Sending him to the Grigori had simply honed him.

* * *

Gabriel wandered Heaven's paths after hearing Michael's announcement, his wings trailing behind him, sunk in depression.

Lucifer was free, which meant the war was happening, which meant he was going to lose one of his brothers no matter what.

Maybe, just maybe, after some time in the Cage, Lucifer would make amends and Father would release him.

Doubtful.

He paused at the doors to the armory. Michael had ordered so many weapons made since Lucifer's Fall, he was surprised the doors could lock anymore.

Just how many were in there now?

He pushed the door open and walked inside. The sight of so many gleaming edges made him shudder. He didn't want this fight. But Michael sure seemed to. His brother's grace was the hottest in existence but ever since the Fall, there had been a dark anger emanating from him. Gabriel would see his wings shift and Michael's green eyes would harden and his grace would start to flare only to settle into a seething smolder. Michael spent so much time training with his phantoms that whenever Gabriel _did_ see him, he almost didn't recognize him anymore.

He was already losing his brother.

As he had the thought, he swore that Michael had walked into the armory with him. He turned around, expecting to see him, his disapproving, stern glare. But he was alone.

And he could still feel his brother's grace in the room.

He followed it cautiously, not wanting to surprise his war-prepped brother. Michael was nowhere to be seen. However, the farther he went, the stronger the grace became.

One of the lances was out of place, tucked into a corner instead of in one of the many racks with the hundreds of others.

Gabriel froze. "No…Michael, you didn't…"

He approached the weapon like it was about to kill him on its own. He reached out and when his fingers touched it, the wrath, the _hatred_ that Michael had poured into the sigils as he carved them burned through him like a Leviathan's poison. He snatched his hand back and slowly backed away from the lance, shaking his head.

"No…Michael, _why_?" he whispered, tears filling his eyes.

Michael may be following Father's orders to put Lucifer in the Cage, but he'd obviously added his own agenda to them.

When Lucifer went in, he'd be dying.

He'd never realized that Michael hated him so much.

A door thundered closed somewhere outside and Gabriel spun around, expecting to be caught. That was when he realized that he was _afraid_ of his brother learning that he'd found the lance. He'd never been afraid of Michael before.

He waited until it was quiet, then he left. He failed to notice that the door didn't shut completely behind him. Then, he ran into Michael and he certainly hadn't meant to.

"How could you?" he demanded in a pained voice and he hadn't meant to say that either.

"What are you talking about?" Michael demanded in a low tone that would send most Angels looking for an escape.

"He's our brother, Michael!" Gabriel's voice rose to a shout. "Father said _contain_ him! Not _kill_ him!"

Michael's fist was in his brother's shirt then, his eyes flashing angrily and his wings flaring intimidatingly. "Watch your tone," he growled down at Gabriel.

Gabriel's wings shrunk back as he stared up at his brother with wide eyes. "Michael, why?" he asked, his voice choked. "Don't do this. Please, don't—" He broke off as Michael shook him.

"I don't expect you to understand," Michael growled viciously. "But I do expect you to take a stand."

Gabriel looked at him with horror. "No, Michael, you—"

"No?" Michael glared at him dangerously.

Gabriel could see that lance in his mind, he could feel it piercing all the way to his core. "You promised!" he cried. "You promised you wouldn't make me!"

Michael's grace flared enough to force Gabriel's down. "So you would let him walk into our home," he hissed. "Or maybe you would open the gates for him. Is that it?"

"No, Michael!" Gabriel insisted. "I—"

"Then choose a side!" Michael snarled at him.

"I don't want you to kill him!"

"And just what do you think he'll be trying to do?" Michael asked venomously. His wings flared open, revealing the scars that would never fade.

"You're stronger than he is, Michael!" Gabriel cried. "You've always been stronger than he is! You don't need me! I'm not going to fight!" He paled then, realizing what he'd just said.

Michael shoved him back and drew his blade. "Yes, you will," he growled, grace swirling like an inferno.

Gabriel backed away with his hands raised towards his brother. "No…Michael, please, wait. Just wait—That's not—"

"What you meant?" Michael finished the statement, stalking forward.

Gabriel suddenly felt a wall press against his back. "Michael…" he begged, pushing back, still trying to escape his brother's wrath.

He'd never been afraid of his brother before.

"Draw. Your. Weapon," Michael growled.

Gabriel shook his head, his golden eyes filling with tears. How had it come to this?

" _Draw your weapon!_ " Michael shouted.

Gabriel wanted to shout back, tell Michael that he refused to fight either of his brothers, make him see reason, see that what he was doing was wrong.

He just stood there. When Michael raised his blade, he stood there. When Michael slammed the blade into the stone beside his head, he just stood there.

"Once we fought together," Michael said in a low tone but there was no fondness in his voice like when he used to recall those moments. "You will fight. Or I will count you among the fallen."

Michael snatched his blade free and walked away, leaving Gabriel leaning against the wall. Then, in a flash of gold, he flew for his aerie.

He failed to realize what Michael had said. _Fallen._

Michael hadn't just been referring to Lucifer.

* * *

Btw, if anyone finds a random SJ between scenes that I forgot to replace with a line, please let me know. After typing for hours, it all blurs together. It's nothing secret lol it just stands for Scene Jump.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Hellooooo! I'm here! How's everyone? Hope you're all well. Sorry, this took so long. Again. My life is chaos and my muse ran away from the stress. Did she think to take me with her? Noooooooo. Of course not. I was just left to linger. *sigh* Oh well. Hopefully I can finish this up soon! Yay! We are close to the end *sadface*. About time, right? lol

Welcome new readers and favers and followers! Every notification I got put a bright spot in my day, and guilt in my heart because I hadn't updated in so long :'(

Shoutouts to: 1Corinthians 1313, PrincessMagic, monkeygirl77, wolfimus prime, and LP Womer! Thanks so much for your reviews! Good to see you all! Love you!

* * *

As Eliyon flew to the infirmary, he couldn't shake the feeling that all wasn't well in his home. A sense of unease had settled in his grace and the longer he was in Heaven, the more it made itself known, a soft chill that made his core ache.

The Rit Zien tended his wounds without a word, no inquiry as to how he'd acquired the injuries. Part of him simply attributed it to the fact that how a wound happened wasn't actually critical to its care. But another part of him was now even iller at ease.

The Rit Zien _always_ asked questions. This time, they simply bandaged him and gave him orders to rest for the next day or so.

After the fight with Lilith and his mad flight to make Michael aware of the state of affairs on earth, he couldn't deny that he was tired. He hadn't realized he'd dozed off until the sound of two soft voices woke him. Something about these whispers kept him still, grace quiet and eyes closed. The sense of danger was almost overwhelming, but he was no Fledgling.

"…I'm just glad someone finally said it."

"As am I, but we can't be rash. He would not approve."

"He may. We might even receive promotions."

"How foolish _are_ you? Our lord is subtle. Anyone who jeopardizes his plans will only be severely punished."

"I wish his plan would come to fruition faster. I'll be sent to Earth soon to watch those loathsome mud-monkeys."

Eliyon didn't react to that, even though his continued silence was difficult to maintain. Loathsome? Mud-monkeys? How could speak of Father's creations like that?

And just who was this _lord_? What plans? He hadn't felt such bitter contempt since—

Since Lucifer fell.

 _Don't jump to conclusions_ , he scolded himself. And yet, it made sense, and didn't. These Angels held humanity in contempt, clearly, like the Morningstar had, but did that mean they had sided with the fallen Archangel?

Surely not. Lucifer had rebelled against Father himself, surely the rest of Heaven would never follow such an example.

He waited until the whisperers had gone, then he slipped out of bed and quietly left the infirmary, and headed straight to Ezekiel's chambers. He knocked politely, the situation wasn't so dire that he could justify barging in.

"Come in."

When he stepped inside, the elder Angel's eyes widened slightly in surprise, then delight. "Eliyon," he greeted him warmly and stood up to grasp his forearm. Then, his eyes darted over Eliyon's form. "You are wounded. What happened?"

"That is something I wanted to bring to your attention," Eliyon told him, voice oddly soft.

Ezekiel's gaze sharpened and he nodded. "Sit. Tell me."

Eliyon took a deep breath. Going against Michael wasn't something done lightly. If anyone overheard and spread what he was about to say, he could be accused of sedition.

"Lucifer has returned," Eliyon told him and Ezekiel straightened slowly. "And he is corrupting Father's humans. Burning their souls into abominable beings."

"And you know this, how?" Ezekiel asked with narrowed eyes but his grace was thrumming with worry and grief.

Eliyon felt relief well up inside of him. He'd been right to trust his Mentor. "I fought with one, defending my charge. She said her name was Lilith…and she told me who created her. And that there are many more."

"Michael is aware?"

"I reported to him as soon as I arrived," Eliyon nodded. "But there…is something else…" he trailed off. "A suspicion more than anything."

"I read Tamiel's reports of you, your instincts have yet to be wrong," Ezekiel told him.

Eliyon was both proud and a little embarrassed by the praise. "I feel a divide in Heaven," he said quietly. "I overheard others discussing 'plans' and mentioned a 'lord'. And the way they spoke of humanity, the hatred, it was so familiar," his tone was slightly pained.

Ezekiel nodded slowly. "There are few in Heaven that do not view humanity in such a light. Mud-monkeys they call them and in a way, I understand their dislike. Father gave them something he never gave to us, and they would rather speak to rocks and trees than Him."

Eliyon nodded. He remembered Eden, the direct connection those first humans had had with Father, the painful severance. Some had managed to regain that bond to some extent, many though had not. And what was worse, many of them had never tried.

"So many of them squander a precious gift, and for that, even I feel contempt for them," Ezekiel confessed. "However, I would still protect them until my last breath. Others…do not feel the same."

Eliyon took a deep breath, aware that what he was about to say would sound like a frightened Fledgling. "What if it's Lucifer?"

To his surprise, Ezekiel did not dismiss the idea, instead, by the grim look in his eyes, he'd come to a similar conclusion.

"You said, you feel a divide in Heaven," he said sadly. "One exists. You were too young to fully grasp the reach of an Archangel. Almost boundless. I feel the chill in my core, the bitterness in the air. Lucifer's reach has not diminished with his time in exile and his influence remains ever so potent."

Ezekiel sounded _afraid_.

"My greatest fear now is, when the battle begins, seeing just how many of our brothers will turn on us," he said softly.

Eliyon's mind had just drawn that conclusion, as well and his grace coiled anxiously. "What can we do?" he asked.

Ezekiel gave him an approving look. Even afraid, he hadn't asked that question from a position of helplessness and hopelessness. The Angel was ready for action.

"Unfortunately, very little," he sighed sadly. "But I will do what I can to counter the influence among my students. But a poison so potent and sweet is almost impossible to counter."

"What would you have me do?"

Ezekiel smiled then. "You are Grigori. You know what to do."

Eliyon nodded, smiling faintly at those words. "Very well."

"If you have the time, you should visit Gabriel," Ezekiel told him. "He's missed you." Then he pulled Eliyon into an embrace. "I'm proud of you," he said warmly.

Eliyon smiled. "Thank you, Mentor."

"Now go," he gave Eliyon a light push towards the door.

Eliyon went looking for Gabriel but no one he asked seemed to have seen him in quite a while. Those that had, described him as being depressed, staying in his aerie most of the time. So he headed that way, passing the armory—

 _What…was that?_

He froze, staring at the door, then pushed inside. He felt no reason to hide what he was doing. He wasn't a Fledgling anymore and the armory was open to all Angels.

 _Is Michael in here?_

He certainly felt his grace, but it was so…bitter. So dark.

Then, he found the lance and the hatred emanating from the etchings made him reel. He made himself go closer and when he read them, he felt sick.

He'd never seen such a horrible curse. And to belong to Father's first son…

 _I have to find Gabriel!_

He dashed out and flew to his aerie, only to find it empty.

"Gabriel?" he called, sudden fear and dread clenching his grace. The archangel's presence, the lingering sense of his grace, was so faint in this place. Too faint for him to have spent most of his time here. "Gabriel!"

"Hey, kiddo."

Eliyon spun around to see him standing by the door, smiling tiredly.

"What's going on?"

"Gabriel, Michael plans on killing Lucifer," Eliyon told him, horrified. "We can't let that happen."

Gabriel looked away sadly. "I'm not fighting, kiddo. I won't choose between my brothers."

"Gabriel, stopping him from killing Lucifer isn't choosing," Eliyon said. "It's making sure that what Father ordered is all that happens. He said lock him away. Not kill him."

Gabriel just shook his head, not meeting his eyes.

Eliyon froze. Something was very wrong here. If Gabriel's grace hadn't been the first he'd bonded to, he may never have noticed the lack. The absence.

"You're not Gabriel," his voice shook slightly.

The phantom looked up then with an even sadder smile.

"Where is he?!" Eliyon demanded, desperation gripping him like a vice.

"He's gone, kiddo," the phantom said. "For good. First casualty."

Eliyon staggered back, eyes wide. "No…" he shook his head, tears filling his eyes. "No! It isn't true! He's not dead!"

The phantom nodded. "Sorry, kiddo."

"Don't call me that!" Eliyon snapped, wings flaring angrily. "Only Gabriel gets to call me that!"

The phantom nodded, and faded away.

Eliyon sank to his knees, trying to catch his breath. Gabriel was gone.

 _How?!_

His wings wrapped around him in a cocoon. No. Gabriel wasn't dead. All of Heaven would have felt that loss.

He was just…gone.

Refusing to choose between his brothers. Refusing to fight.

The crushing feeling of aloneness settled on him and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to stand up again.

Gabriel had abandoned them all to Lucifer's poison and Michael's wrath.

 _"How could you?!"_ his grace screamed in agony but there was no answer. _I'm on my own._

He bowed his head, fighting tears as his core pulsed with agony. Then after a moment, he took a deep breath, and stood, squaring his shoulders.

 _I'm on my own._

He left the aerie and flew back to the armory.

 _It's just me, now._

He walked in, straight to the lance, and took it, feeling the weight, the cold violence and vengeance that had forged it.

 _No one else will. So I will_.

He vanished out of the armory. His injuries ached with the sudden exertion, but he didn't stop. He flew to the space between Heaven and Earth, and hurled the lance into the galaxies that made up that empty space. He watched until it vanished with a flash and something within him hardened.

There was no turning back from this. When Michael found out, he could very well be executed. But this was defiance of Father's will and he would not allow that to continue.

Regardless of the consequences.

* * *

Okay, so everyone remembers the episode with Michael's Lance? How Ramiel said it went missing and no one knew how? Yeahhhh here's my headcanon ;)


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Okay, I want to extend my deepest apologies for that atrocious chapter 20. I cringe just thinking about it. Here, rewritten and revised is a much better one!

Here are the shoutouts because there's no way I'm letting these get deleted! Wolfkid32, 1Corinthians 1313, Applejax XD, PrincessMagic, Kathy, and Muffy31776! Thanks so much for the reviews! Loved reading them, as always. I hope the chapters to come don't disappoint (even this one's predecessor did). Love you guys so much! MWAH!

And the Discord link! **(https): / / discord . gg / j3G6PHa** Make sure to erase the parentheses and delete the spaces so it's all smooshed together. The channel is Wayward Fam. I'd love to talk to you guys so don't be afraid to join up!

Enjoy!

* * *

The gates were closed. The legions of Hell were marching. If any in Heaven had doubted that Lucifer was free, they doubted no longer.

The Morningstar stood before his demonic legions, wings spread in a proud display, blade raised in a challenge as the blood-red sky boiled. The monstrous, tortured souls were few compared to the number of the Host, but they were nothing to scoff at. Eliyon knew that first hand.

"Go," Tamiel told him grimly. "We are spreading throughout the Host. One Grigori to a Flight. Find your brothers."

Eliyon nodded curtly and launched into the sky to find Castiel and Balthazar. The last he'd heard, they were serving under Anna's command. Her fiery red hair was easy to spot in the multitude and he located his friends quickly, landing between them in a rush of wind.

"Look who's decided to join the fun," Balthazar smirked grimly.

"I thought you were remaining with the Grigori," Castiel remarked with a frown.

"We're spreading out among the Flights," Eliyon told them.

"What, don't think we can handle it?" Balthazar scoffed.

"Do you?" Castiel asked him with a raised brow.

* * *

Michael strode into the armory, wings arched high, armor gleaming in the bloody light. All of Heaven would bear witness to Lucifer's fall and perhaps, that would put an end to this rebellion.

He froze, wings flaring with wrath.

The lance was gone.

Who would dare?!

He had no time to ponder or investigate the theft and he strode out, the doors thundering closed behind him. Once the battle was over, he would find out who had taken the weapon. Oh, yes, he would find out.

* * *

The Host shifted, ready for the battle and nervous at the wait. They all waited for Michael's command. Would he force Lucifer's legions to throw themselves at the gate? Would he open them and force open combat?

Then, Michael strode through them, grace blazing like an inferno, wings open in a challenging display, scars visible.

"Lucifer!" his true voice rang out clear and strong. "I offer you this one chance to surrender. Kneel to Father's will."

Lucifer's laughter was a chilling sound. "Why surrender when I've already won?"

"LONG LIVE THE MORNINGSTAR!" Adimus shouted and plunged his blade into another angel's back. Nakir, his best friend. The angel died, choking on silver grace and all around them, the cry echoed through the ranks and blades gorged on silver life.

"DEFENSE!" Eliyon shouted when the other angels stood frozen in shock, his sword singing as he drew it from its sheath. "BACK TO BACK!"

Castiel and Balthazar immediately turned around and the three of them formed a triangle, not thinking for a moment that one would betray the other.

* * *

Michael vaulted into the air and dove for Lucifer, his blade gleaming and grace blazing. He collided with his brother's ice and thunder rolled across Heaven, so much more powerful than it ever had during their arguments. The very foundations of earth seemed to quake.

"Where are your captains?" Lucifer sneered when Michael's blade clashed against his. "Dagon, Asmodeus…"

Michael slammed his boot into his chest, knocking him back and lunging forward to finish him off with a single hit.

Four bodies collided with him, driving him back in clouds of hot, putrid smoke, slicing at his armor, his wings. With a shout, his grace erupted, killing every demon around them, save those four.

"Hello, Michael," Asmodeus drawled as one cloud of smoke swirled and solidified into the form of one of his most powerful warriors.

Then, Dagon appeared, eyes cold as winter. Then, Ramiel, burning hot with hate. Then, Azazel, smirking and confident in their victory.

"You think you've won?" Michael scoffed at Lucifer.

"I know I have," he sneered.

The ground began to shake and ripple and Michael's grace surrounded them in a wall of fire. "Gabriel isn't here to save you, this time."

"And Raphael is just sitting back, waiting to see which of us he'll bend a knee to," Lucifer smirked.

A flash of gold appeared and suddenly, Gabriel was there. He slammed his blade into Asmodeus' shoulder. "I've got these, Michael!" he shouted over the din. "You handle Lucifer!" He took off into the sky, wind churning like a hurricane and the Knights gave chase with screams of rage.

If Lucifer knew that one of his Knights had just been attacked by one of his brother's phantoms, he gave no indication. He beckoned to Michael with a finger. "Come on, then, brother," he smirked, and launched into the air, wings surging and driving him toward the heart of the battle.

* * *

Eliyon's blade was almost nothing but flashes of light. Demons littered the ground at his feet and sulfur smoke filled the air, making it difficult to breathe and even harder to see. A glance over both shoulders showed him that Balthazar and Castiel both had similar piles of stinking, putrid bodies around them. During the time he'd been with the Grigori, they had obviously been through equally rigorous training.

Something growled in the smoke and a heavy body slammed into them, breaking their defensive formation apart with a guttural snarl. A hellhound. Sizzling drool dripped from the hellhound's fangs and its red eyes burned with hatred.

"Oh, mind your wings, lads," Balthazar warned. "That's what they'll go for, I'm sure."

"ON THE RIGHT!" Eliyon shouted as two more hounds lunged out of the smoke. Their jaws snapped shut on empty air as the Angels dodged out of the way.

"ELIYON!" Castiel shouted as another hound dove for his friend's back with a roar.

Eliyon spun, blade flashing, and the hound dropped to the ground, throat slit wide open and spewing burning blood. Two more leaped for him and his time with the Grigori served him well. He opened their throats, one after the other, and then drove his blade through the heart of a third.

Two leaped at Castiel and he turned to cut them down, teeth bared in a snarl as one, then the other collapsed without their heads attached. A third dove out of the smoke and he screamed in pain as it sunk fangs into his leg. As he fell, another dove on his back and started ripping through his armor to get to the bases of his wings.

Balthazar was closest and he dove on the hound, hacking it apart while Eliyon killed the one ripping into Castiel's leg. All around them, Angels screamed and fell with shrieks of pain as these new foes charged into their ranks, filling the air with sulfur and silver grace.

Eliyon flared his grace and the five demons that had decided to attack them while Castiel was down evaporated with screams of agony. "We have to get him out of here," he stated, glaring at the battlefield, trying to find a safe place to take Castiel.

Balthazar nodded grimly, pulling Castiel to his feet and supporting him with an arm around his torso. "But where?"

"Something… something is wrong," Castiel gasped as his legs collapsed beneath him. "I can't… hold my…" His blade clattered to the ground, his hand unable to hold the weapon any longer.

Unholy screams split the air and angels fell with shrieks of pain as the demons surrounded and attacked them. Claws and fangs ripped into them. Grace flowed and the air filled with sulfur.

Balthazar pulled Castiel to his feet, supporting him with an arm around his torso, ignoring his cries of pain at the pressure across his wounds.

"Something's…wrong…" Castiel gasped. "I…I can't hold…" He dropped his blade.

Three demons crashed into them, knocking Castiel out of Balthazar's grip. Eliyon spun through them, blade flashing in the blood-red light as he mowed them down without pity. He stood over Castiel, wings flared in a threat.

A legion emerged from the smoke, grinning and drooling, gnashing their fangs in anticipation of the celestial meal they were about to enjoy.

Eliyon assessed them all with narrowed eyes. "Balthazar—"

"We can't fight this many," his friend said, dread and defeat heavy in his tone.

"I can," Eliyon replied with grim confidence. I might not win, but I can fight them, buy some time.

"You're mad!" Balthazar told him, still holding Castiel up and brandishing his blade in a threat that only made the demons laugh.

They stopped advancing, crouching low, preparing to launch themselves onto the three angels.

They were going to die.

"BALTHAZAR, FLY!" Eliyon shouted and years of training ensured his friend followed the order without hesitation, taking flight with Castiel without checking to see if Eliyon was following.

The demons attacked a mere second later, an entire legion against one angel. Eliyon's grace exploded, obliterating every demon in the first and second wave. If he hadn't already been exhausted, he could have wiped out the entire legion. Instead, the third wave converged on him, ripping and tearing at his armor until he was completely exposed to their fangs and claws. He hacked and slashed and stabbed but for each one he killed, three more filled the gap. Finally, they dragged him down, piling on him like wolves on a sheep, ripping him apart even as he desperately hacked at them.

In the chaos of the battle, his screams were just one more sound in the nightmarish cacophony.

A blast of icy grace scythed through them all, cutting them down without effort. Eliyon struggled for breath, coppery grace bubbling between his lips, pouring out of his wounds. He tried to rise and made it onto his hands and knees, body trembling, and collapsed onto his side with his torn wings twisted under and around him like a fallen sparrow. His remaining strength evaporated and his vision faded out, then back in.

Lucifer stood there, looking down at him with an unreadable expression, his blade dripping silver, black smoke and sulfuric vapor wafting off his wings and frost forming around his feet.

He'd saved him.

Why?

Eliyon tried to rise again so he could face the fallen archangel. He tried to just move, but he couldn't and as his vision faded to black, the last thing he saw, was the Morningstar walking away.


End file.
